


Atramentous

by IWrteFicNotTragedies



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bullying, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nico is a stubborn emo kid that needs to be loved, OOC for plot purposes, Plotty, Slow Burn, Will is an obvs gay optimist with a huge heart, Will is such a softie okay, and lots of unnecessary word vomit, there's too many cliches to count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 113,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWrteFicNotTragedies/pseuds/IWrteFicNotTragedies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that I only wore black. </p><p>Black like the charred remains of everything I had once loved, black like the smoke billowing into the sky as my tears cut tracks through the black soot coating my face, and black like the little puppy that was squirming in my arms afterwards, the only piece of my old life I had left. </p><p>~¤~</p><p>Four years ago, Nico's life was perfect. He had two loving parents, a caring older sister, and a beautiful house in Italy. Then a fire started in their house and everything Nico loved crumbled along with the walls and family photos. Now, Nico and his dad live in America with Nico's step mom and sister, but Hades is almost never home and Nico has hardly smiled since the fire. Maybe the boy who just moved in across the street can help him bring a stop to the relentless bullying Nico has been dealing with for two years, and maybe he can teach him to smile again in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It'd Better Be Black

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the [playlist](https://play.spotify.com/user/solangelo-snowbaz/playlist/6ygmKeOgkb20BILvnr0sSM) and [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/songofafeelies/atramentous/) for this fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version is a lot better edited than the one on Wattpad ... and bare with me, the first few chapters are a bit rough (and kinda cringey) as I started writing this three years ago, but it gets better, I promise.

I was walking home from the hellish place that some know-it-all adult had so wrongfully deemed "a safe, happy environment for students to learn and grow," when in reality it was a mind-numbing prison whose inmates would stop at nothing to bring others down as long as it glorified their own appearance.

My limbs were aching and the metallic taste of blood rested on my tongue from my split lip. I winced, my knees, forearms, and the palms of my hands were stinging from colliding with the rough pavement and had angry, red road rash extending over them. I was certain I had more than a few bruises on my back and ribs, old and new, and the knee of my already battered black skinny jeans was tragically ripped open; the skin underneath was bleeding slightly.

I sighed, grateful that I had at least managed to cover my face, black eyes were a little hard to explain to my mom, the rest I could easily hide from view or devise a story for. Then again, I'd rather not be beaten up at all, but you take what you can get, right?

The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked in the middle of the street, practically begging for a car to roll up behind me and put me out of my misery. I'd never do that to myself, suicide was thought of as an escape for many people, and while the idea of ceasing to exist wasn't exactly unpleasant, for me that would be giving into the _stronzi_ who picked on me every day and I wasn't about to do that. I would push through it, I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they got to me, I wouldn't go for help and make them believe I couldn't deal with them by myself. Because I could.

I forced myself to dwell on the positive, not to think too much. Thinking is the worst thing someone like me can do because as soon as I recede into the dark pit I call my brain I get lost in a swirling maelstrom of torment and it only ever ends in tears and pain. So I drown out my thoughts with music and words written on paper and over my arms, the walls of my room, and sometimes just reading them from the pages of a book.

I shook my head, I was sinking again. I couldn't get too close to the edge, or I'd fall in. My brain wasn't a pleasant place to be lost in.

I turned the corner to my street--if you can call it that-- which consisted of two houses, one bright blue (which was mine) and one across the street that was a very dingy, peeling brown color, after that the street ended abruptly, replaced with an army of large trees. Hiding a ways into the forest was a small lake that no one else seemed to know about ; if I wasn't at school or locked in my room, I was there.

I stopped dead, my eyes widening in shock when I saw the house across the street. A moving truck sat in the driveway, and the "For Sale" sign that had been stuck in the ground was gone. Workers and two people who I assumed were the parents were unloading boxes and furniture and bringing it into the house while a little girl around the age of six ran around, shouting excitedly and getting scolded for being in people's' way.

This wouldn't have been a big deal, except for the fact that that house had been vacant since we'd moved in and it had always looked like it hadn't been so much as touched for over twenty years. Someone buying it hadn't even been a possibility in my mind. I shook my head and kept walking, it wasn't that big of a deal, so what if someone was going to be living across the street? I could deal with it.

I jogged up the steps to my house, pulled the key out of my pocket, and unlocked the door, stepping inside and kicking it closed behind me. "I'm home!" I yelled, just so my mom would know, then kicked off my shoes.

I immediately headed left to get up to my room, just like I did every day after school, but my step-mom stepped out of the kitchen, intercepting me before I could get to the stairs.

Her crimped black hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she was wearing jeans and a loose, white top that starkly contrasted her chocolate complexion, the flour-covered floral apron she had on told me she'd been baking. She smiled, her brown eyes sparkling, "Someone is moving in across the street-- you're bleeding!" she exclaimed, moving forward.

I ducked out of the way, "I'm fine, I just fell, and yeah, I saw, what are you baking?" I wondered, trying to peek over her shoulder.

She laughed at me, "Be more careful, Nico, you seem to be getting more and more clumsy as the days go by." She tsked at me, and I couldn't help but wonder what she'd do if she knew I was lying, "It's for our new neighbors, don't get your hopes up," and with that she disappeared back inside the kitchen.

I smiled a little, both in amusement and relief and turned down the hallway and jogged up the stairs, walking up the hallway and stepping into the bathroom. My lip wasn't that bad, just a little dribble of blood, I quickly cleaned myself up and then crossed the hall to turn the knob of my bedroom door and let it swing open. It was like finally coming up for air after swimming a mile without stopping. My room is my safe haven, most people would walk in and immediately think, "Dark," but to me, that was the best way anything could be.

The walls are painted completely black, and the window on the opposite side of the room is draped with thick, black curtains that prevent any sunlight from spilling in. In the left corner, right underneath the window is my bed, where my thick jet-black covers were sitting in a ball in the corner. The floors are deep mahogany hardwood with a thick plush rug splayed out over the center of the room like a huge ebony ink stain. Tucked into an alcove opposite the bed is a desk (black of course) with papers and different writing utensils spread out all over its surface, and a rolly chair was carelessly thrown from its rightful place, sitting halfway between the desk and the foot of my bed.

On the rest of the wall next to the desk was a large bookshelf tucked inside the wall, the top shelf and half of the one below it were empty, but other than that, every space was filled with thick hardcovers and paperbacks alike. A huge well-worn charcoal bean bag sat directly below it, with a few books and a bag of chips residing on it.

The lower left corner of the room is sliced off, making a short, four-foot wall that my raven-colored dresser sits against, displaying a lamp, an alarm clock, and a couple of framed pictures. To the right of that is a full-length mirror. Right next to my bed is a large CD case, which is practically bursting at the seams and houses a radio/CD player on top of it.

Almost every open area of wall is covered with posters boasting pictures of my favorite bands, their members staring out behind thick eyeliner, drawings I'd done over the years, and random things scribbled in silver Sharpie. Then, of course, there are the clothes lying all over the floor that I haven't bothered to pick up yet.

My one and only friend was sprawled out on my bed, her head shot up as I walked in and her tongue lolled happily. Yeah, my only friend is my Newfoundland, Mrs. O'Leary, who's black. Surprise, surprise.

I cracked a sad smile at her as she hopped off the bed, loping over and tackling me in an enormous dog hug, I stumbled backward, wincing as her huge paws hit sore spots on my shoulders. I shoved her off playfully and ruffled her ears, "Hey, girl."

She's seriously huge, standing on four paws, her eyes were level with my chin, so standing on two, she dwarfed me easily. Sometimes I think she just stands that way to rub it in my face how short I actually am.

I stepped around her and pulled out a random CD from the case, popped it in and turned it up all the way, as was my daily after school ritual. "Helena" by My Chemical Romance immediately burst from the speakers and Mrs. O'Leary wagged her approval of my fantastic taste in music.

I plopped down onto my bed and my dog followed, resting her gigantic head on my chest. I ran my fingers through the soft fur of her head and closed my eyes, letting myself relax for the first time that day, and listened to Gerard's voice as I thought.

This was also part of my after school ritual, I didn't do it for any specific purpose other than to try and forget all of the names I'd had shouted at me and the pain, both physical and mental, that I'd gone through.

I tried not to let myself get down, but it was hard. It was _so_ hard, especially when I refused to ask for help or tell anyone what I was feeling. I knew I should've, but it seemed like attention seeking and being ungrateful because there are people out there who have little or nothing and compared to them, I was the luckiest person alive. I had no right to mope or be sad, but that just made it worse, because I was, and that must have made me a pretty terrible person.

"I don't know why you put up with me," I muttered to my dog. "Probably just for the treats." I opened my eyes a little, looking down at her big, mournful doe eyes. I smirked, "Cut the innocence act, I know your real intentions."

She snorted at me, closing her eyes.

"Nice talking to you too," I told her.

Loud knocking sounded at the door, followed by someone yelling. I reached over and turned down the music considerably. "What?" I said back.

I could practically hear my sister rolling her eyes. "You're going to go deaf," she told me.

"Only if I listen to the crap you do." I shot back.

"Whatever, Nico. Mom wants you."

I sighed, pushing Mrs. O'Leary off of me and rolling out of bed, turning off the music in the process. I left my safe haven, making sure to close the door behind me, to go downstairs.

I padded into the kitchen, Mrs. O'Leary on my heels, the only place she didn't follow me was to school and anywhere else she wasn't allowed. "Yeah?" I asked my mom, who was carefully placing banana slices at decorative intervals in the whipped cream on top of her pie. She put a light dusting of coconut in the center, and then picked it up, turning to me.

"Would you take this across the street for me?" she asked, holding it out.

"Me?" I asked, pointing to myself.

She looked amused at this, "Is anyone else in the room?"

I ignored her comment, "Why can't Hazel do it?" I asked. It wasn't that I was too lazy to walk across the street, it was that I was genuinely terrified that I would do something stupid. Meeting new people wasn't really my forte.

She shook her head, "It'll be good for you, I think I saw a boy around your age go inside. Maybe you could talk to him."

I sighed, I know she was trying to help, but the kid probably wouldn't want anything to do with me. In fact, he'd probably add himself to my long list of tormentors. Even if he did talk to me, I'd probably make a fool out of myself. But I didn't say any of that. "Sure, just let me go get my shoes on."

I walked into the entryway, her and Mrs. O'Leary behind me. I pulled my black Vans on and then stood up, opening the door and taking the pie from my mom.

"Be careful," she warned, "don't drop it." Her words sounded more like advice against anything I might do to ruin my reputation over at the new neighbor's.

"I know." My dog trailed me as I left and I didn't stop her, we were just walking across the street, not going in.

I trotted up the steps and rang the doorbell with my elbow, wincing as my road burn met the plastic. I waited while people yelled inside, listening to footsteps rushing around. Eventually, the door swung open to reveal the guy my mom must've been talking about.

He was basically my exact opposite. Where I was short, scrawny, and pale with black hair and boring brown eyes, he was tall, muscular and tan, with dirty blonde hair that fell in waves to frame his blue eyes, pink lips, and perfect jawline. I barely came up to his shoulder, and he was obviously the type of person who would make a ton of friends in no time without even trying. Long story short, it was easy for me to feel like an idiot standing there in front of him.

"Hey!" He said, looking pleasantly surprised. "I thought it was going to be another worker."

I laughed awkwardly, "Uh, hi. No, it's just me. . . I live across the street and my mom baked you guys a pie." I held it out to him, wanting to sink into the ground and disappear.

He opened the door wider, stepping aside, "Want to come in?"

My eyes widened a bit, and I found myself hoping he hadn't noticed, "Oh, uh. . ." I said, turning to look at Mrs. O' Leary.

He seemed to notice the mammoth Newfoundland standing behind me for the first time. "Woah, is that your dog?"

I bit back the sarcastic comment that sprung to the tip of my tongue, figuring it wouldn't be the best way to start a conversation. "Yeah," I said instead.

"Dude, he's awesome," He crouched down a bit to hold his clenched fist out for her to sniff, Mrs. O'Leary complied, "or is it a her?"

"Her. She won't bite," I told him, and he reached out his hand carefully and petted her head, smiling. Mrs. O'Leary let her tongue fall out in a lazy dog grin, closing her eyes and tilting her head up while he scrubbed his fingers through her neck fur.

He straightened and looked at me, the right side of his mouth rose higher than the left as he smiled, "What's her name?"

I shifted awkwardly and glanced at my dog, who seemed to be glaring at me accusingly for being embarrassed about her name. "Mrs. O'Leary," I said, feeling a slight blush creep into my cheeks.

His eyebrows rose fractionally and his lips twitched in amusement. "Really?"

I looked at the ground, feeling like a complete dork. "Uh, yeah. . . She's named after this lady from a story because they both survived a fire." I said truthfully, still blushing.

"That's actually really cool." If he was just trying to make me feel better, he was doing a good job of hiding it. "How'd she survive a fire?" He looked down at Mrs. O'Leary, who was staring up at him with her head tilted to the side like she couldn't figure out why we were talking about her.

I bit my lip, "Uh, our old dog, Misty, had just had puppies and Mrs. O'Leary was one of them. I was twelve. . . even back then she was my favorite. One night, a fire started in the middle of the night. I was sleeping with her. . . I woke up, but I was trapped in my room. Me and Mrs. O'Leary barely got out alive. . ." I trailed off, leaving out the part where my older sister, Bianca, and my real mom had been trapped in there as well, how the firefighters had arrived just in time to get inside, how they had pulled me and the tiny puppy that was with me out, but my family was still inside when the roof started collapsing. If my dad hadn't been away on a business trip, he probably would have been burned alive too, and I definitely didn't mention how after that I only wore black.

Black like the charred remains of everything I had once loved, black like the smoke billowing into the sky as my tears cut tracks through the black soot coating my face, and black like the little puppy that was squirming in my arms afterward, the only piece of my old life I had left. Well, besides my dad, who to that day was almost never home, and when he was he made the house feel like a dark veil had settled over it. Black was the color of everything I'd lost, but it's also the color of everything I had left, the things that were the most important to me, even then. I shivered even though it was perfectly warm outside, trying not to remember that day.

"Are you okay?" His voice was a testament to the fact that he was genuinely concerned about me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I shook my head, "I'm fine," I assured him, putting on a well-practiced fake smile. He didn't look convinced, but he also didn't push the issue further, which I was glad for.

"I never asked you for your name," he stated instead, "I'm Will Solace."

"I'm Nico di Angelo," I told him, "Why'd you guys decide to move here?"

"My dad got a job." Will explained, then frowned, "I won't see you at school, I'm homeschooled."

 _See me at school? Why would he want to do that?_ "Oh. . ." I said, my brow crinkling in confusion.

Will's eyes danced with amusement, and I found myself blushing again. His mouth twitched again and he reached out, offering to take the pie I'd forgotten I was holding. I handed it over to him, careful not to let our hands brush.

Will turned around, walking into the house without saying goodbye. _Ouch,_ I thought, starting to turn away, feeling strangely sad.

"You coming? Mrs. O'Leary can too."

I turned back around, Will was looking at me expectantly and I realized that he wanted me to follow him, heat crept up my neck and into my face. I had probably turned twelve shades between puce and fuchsia in the last five minutes. "Oh, uh, y-yeah. Yeah. Right." I stuttered, completely thrown.

He walked inside, his amused smirk only causing my blush to worsen. I trailed him uncertainly, being careful to avoid the boxes scattered everywhere; Mrs. O'Leary followed happily, sniffing everything as we walked. The house was surprisingly clean and not-dusty, I decided not to question it.

"Mom! Dad!" Will called.

A woman with light brown hair stepped out of the next room, "Your dad is with your sister fixing the--Oh! A visitor!"

Will beamed, "And he brought pie," he said, showing it to her.

His mom smiled at me, "Double score." Will and his mom smiled at each other like they were sharing an inside joke I didn't get, "Well, how nice of you, Mr. . ."

"Di Angelo." I supplied, "Nico di Angelo, it's banana cream, my mom made it. From scratch," I said as an afterthought, then I immediately scolded myself for boasting about my stepmom's cooking and quickly added another shade of pink to my ever-growing list of facial colors.

"Oh! Well, you be sure and thank her for it, I'm sure it's delicious."

I nodded and my dog poked at my hand with her big, wet nose. I glanced down at her and so did his mom. "Oh, this is my dog, Mrs. O'Leary."

"She's adorable," Mrs. Solace proclaimed, grinning.

"Thanks. . ." I said, looking down at her. "Well, it was nice meeting you guys."

Mrs. Solace nodded, "Yes, of course, we'll have to get together with your family sometime."

"Yeah, that'd be great." I answered, shifting awkwardly. _Just please let me leave before I say something dumb._

"See you around?" Will asked, there was something in his voice that I thought was hope, but I brushed off the idea immediately. Who in their right mind would hope to see _me_ again? Will was probably just being nice.

Will's mom seemed to make a split-second decision. "Nico doesn't have to go, that is, if he wants to stay."

I suddenly felt trapped. Don't get me wrong, I liked Will and all, but I thought I'd probably die from awkwardness after half an hour. The guys at school would get a kick out of that.

"We can't really do anything over here," Will said. "Plus, I should help." He looked over at the huge piles of boxes piled on the ground.

"We could go to my house." The words spilled out of my mouth and plopped into the air without them even entering my mind at all, like they were being dragged out by some exterior force. I instantly regretted them, I should've just said goodbye. I could've offered to help them unpack, that would've been the polite thing to do. You know what, screw polite, that would've been the least awkward thing to do. One thousand times less awkward than going to my house. In my room. Which was basically Emo Central.

Will seemed to think this was a fantastic idea, "Can I?"

His mom looked at me like she was considering my black attire one more time before she made any decisions. I hoped she decided I was dangerous. My mind did a complete 180 as I remembered how scrawny and short I was. _Or something. . ._

"I don't see why not if it's okay with your mom." She said it like a question.

I could have lied, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to. "I'm sure she'll be fine with it." I just hoped I didn't sound as terrified as I felt.

"Okay," Will said, smiling at me.

"Uh. . . So, off to my house, we go."

He laughed and started making his way to the front door. I followed him, waving goodbye to his mom before he shut the door.

We walked back to my house, Mrs. O'Leary proudly leading the way. As we approached the front door, I had the startling realization that Will was the first person I'd ever brought into this house. The first (maybe) friend I'd had since, well, since _ever._ My hand hesitated for a split second in front of the doorknob, shaking-- I was so afraid I was going to screw this up-- before I grabbed the knob and turned it, pushing the door open.

"Mom, is it okay if Will, the kid that lives across the street, can he come over?" I called into the house.

My mom poked her head out from the living room, her eyes widened and she looked at me like she couldn't believe I'd made a friend. I couldn't blame her, I didn't believe it either, I wasn't even sure if Will was my friend, what classifies someone as your friend anyway?

"Yeah!" she said, sounding _extremely_ excited, "You two have fun! Do you want me to make you snacks? I could make you some--"

"No, Mom," I said, blushing intensely, we're fine."

"Oh, yeah of course." My mom turned to Will and asked him if he was going to Oak Hills, I zoned out after that as she continued to ask him questions, my mind wandering over to the area of my brain reserved for my ideas. I thought about different things I wanted to draw and ideas for things to write, I started wondering if I should paint my ceiling blood red and then someone said my name, "What?" I asked, reality hitting me in the face like a freight train. Reality was a _cagna._

My mom rolled her eyes at me, "Where have you been this whole time?"

That woman could read my mind, I swear. "I was thinking about painting my ceiling. . ." I admitted.

She shook her head, "I'm not going to question you anymore." she told me, walking back through the doorway on our right.

I almost smiled, "My room is up here." I told Will, walking towards the stairs.

We jogged upstairs together and I led him up the hall and walked into my bedroom, Will trailing after me. As soon as I was inside I plopped down on my bed to watch his reaction to the dark interior.

He didn't look weirded out in any way like I had expected. From what I saw, his expression wasn't any different than when we walked into my house: curious and open.

Will made his way over to the bookshelf, "You like to read?"

I nodded and then realized he couldn't see me, "Yeah."

He scanned the titles, smiling, "Me too." He turned to face me, "You have a fantastic taste in books."

I smiled a little, shifting my weight awkwardly, "Thanks, I guess."

He laughed, the sound was almost musical, rich and filling the air with the sound of pure joy. It made my heart ache. He walked over and sat next to me, bumping his shoulder against mine, which made me smile a little again, and looked around. "Why all the black?" he wondered, glancing down at me, "It seems kind of. . . sad."

I looked down, slightly flustered and definitely more than a little pink. "Black is. . . kind of symbolic for me . . ." I trailed off, looking at the picture of my family before the fire, when I was six and we still lived in Italy, that was sitting on my dresser.

My mom was smiling brightly, and my father stood slightly behind her, his lips turned up at the corners slightly. Bianca and I were at the front, she was holding my hand and I was laughing, showing off my missing front tooth.

Will followed my gaze, out of my peripheral vision I saw his brow wrinkle in confusion and his lip twitch slightly. He was probably thinking that the woman in the picture was definitely not the one he'd just met.

I waited for him to ask about it, but he never did. We sat in silence for a couple of seconds before Will turned his head to look at me. "So, what do you usually do in your spare time?" he asked randomly.

I was a little thrown by the question, but I was also grateful for the distraction. "Er, I'm pretty boring." I said, looking down at my hands again, my hair fell down into my eyes. "I mostly draw, read, listen to music. . ." I fiddled with my fingers nervously, "I spend most of my time in here." I finished.

"That's not boring."

I looked up, Will was looking at me with an expression of pure honesty, frowning slightly like he couldn't believe I'd call myself boring.

I stared at him, "W-what?"

He looked slightly amused at my shocked expression, "I don't think you're boring."

"But you don't even really know me."

He nodded, "And I can already tell that you're different." _Yeah, I think I_ know _that._ "You don't bend to conformity, and I can't seem to figure you out, in my book, that makes you interesting."

I just blinked at him, "O-oh. . ."

He smiled at me before standing up and walking over to the wall next to my door. He moved his eyes slowly over a drawing of a forest fire I'd done in bright Prisma colors and brushed his fingers over the words, _"Belle cose sembrano bruciare il veloce"_ scrawled on the black wall in silver Sharpie nearby.

I fidgeted while I watched him, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. I wondered dully if he could hear it all the way across the room.

"What language is this?" he asked, looking at me over his shoulder, his slender fingers still resting lightly on the words.

"Italian." I answered absentmindedly, my eyes still resting on Will's hand, he had musician's hands, I realized.

Will's hand dropped as he turned to face me, and my eyes flicked to his face.

"You speak Italian?" He asked excitedly.

"I _am_ Italian. English is my second language." I informed him, amused at his reaction, my faint accent should have tipped him off. "Do you play an instrument?"

Will looked surprised, "Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"Your fingers, I inferred."

Will lifted his hands, studying his digits, "What about them?"

I shrugged, "They're long, and the tips are calloused, do you play the guitar?"

"Yeah, I do," he said, watching me with a dumbstruck expression, which then turned to one of amusement.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"You're blushing." he informed me, his tone was smug, more a confirmation of the fact that he was finding far too much pleasure in teasing me than anything else, "Again."

I scowled at him, feeling my cheeks redden more, "I am not."

"Really?" He tilted his head, "I could have sworn your face was a pale olive before."

"Shut up." I muttered, ducking my head.

Will laughed, "It's going to take a lot to shut me up." I thought he winked, I might have imagined it, but I blushed anyway, and Will grinned.

I glared at him, "You're _trying_ to make me blush now, aren't you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Actually, no. But that's a great idea, thanks, Neeks!"

My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened in indignation. "Neeks?" I sputtered.

My protests only seemed to amuse him more, "Yeah, that's my new nickname for you."

"What if I don't want to be called Neeks?" I asked, folding my arms.

Will shrugged, "It's too late now," he said dramatically, "I've made my decision, Neeks suits you. Also, you're blushing and we've just decided that's my new goal in life."

I was starting to wonder why people would want friends in the first place. Human interaction wasn't as great as everyone made it out to be, (I didn't count being bullied as human interaction. . . But who would?) and I realized that Will was right, I was blushing, and I hated it. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just kind of sat there, looking at him.

He tilted his head to the side, "Are you okay?"

I blinked, _What?_

He took a couple of steps towards me, "I was just teasing you, Nico, if it really bothers you I don't have to call you Neeks."

I felt my cheeks grow slightly warmer, "No, Neeks is fine." I said defensively.

Will's lip twitched, confusion apparent on his face, "Okay. . ."

I looked down, closing my eyes, _Great, good job, Nico. You just scared away your first chance at an actual friend within the first day of meeting him. Smooth._ I'd pretty much decided I wasn't going anywhere in life when I felt the bed sink down next to me.

I looked over at Will, who was looking distressed for some reason I didn't understand. "Are you okay?" He repeated.

"Is anyone ever okay?" I replied.

He shrugged, "I think that there's things that can make us forget that we're not okay."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you offering me drugs, Will Solace?"

He laughed again, he seemed to do that a lot. Or maybe he laughed the normal amount that most people did, and I just didn't laugh often enough. "No, Nico, I think I'm offering you friendship."

"You think?"

Will rolled his eyes at me, "Just say yes or no."

I shrugged, "Sure."

That earned another one of his musical laughs, "Good enough for me."

I nodded and watched my feet as I swung them back and forth. "I'm sort of new to this."

"You make it sound like I asked you out on a date," he replied, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows.

I gave him a weird look before going back to staring at my shoes. "I mean, I've never. . . I've never really had a friend before. . ." I said awkwardly.

Will's eyebrows shot up, "Never?"

I shook my head. "Nope, unless you count Mrs. O'Leary," I said, jutting my chin towards where she was sprawled across the bean bag. The bag of chips was now empty and there were crumbs everywhere. I didn't know how we'd missed her chowing down on them.

Will bumped his shoulder against mine again, "Then I'd better not screw up."

 _Just don't kick me in the gut and you'll do fine._ I narrowed my eyes at him playfully, "Yeah, you'd better not, or I'll kick your culo." I'd developed a habit of only swearing in Italian, that way my mom and Hazel couldn't understand me, I refrained from swearing at all in front of my dad, when he showed up, that is.

Will's lip twitched, this time, it angled upwards in the process, so I assumed he found what I'd said funny. "Maybe I can get you to wear something besides black."

I rolled my eyes, "In your dreams."

"Dreams can come true."

"Try and put anything colorful anywhere near me and I'll snap your neck." I said viciously.

He shrugged, his lip twitching again, "That won't stop me from trying."

"You say that now," I replied darkly.

Will laughed and flopped back onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I looked back at him, my lips curving upwards at the corners. "Comfy?"

He reached over, pulling my blanket over him from its scrunched up position at the corner of the mattress, and turning over to his side like he was going to sleep, "Yes, in fact I am."

I fell back onto the mattress with my head on the pillow and rested my feet on him. "So, what do you usually do you in your spare time?"

He opened his eyes and looked up at me, "I write music and lyrics. . . Sometimes I write poetry. I spent a lot of time at the beach back home. . . But there's not one here so I guess I'll just go to a pool or something. . ."

"There's a lake that I like to go to." I informed him, "No one else really goes there so--" My voice faltered fractionally, and I gulped, holding back what I was about to say, "so I go there to think. We should go together some time."

He smiled at the idea, "That sounds nice."

My mouth tilted upwards, "Yeah, it does."

We laid in comfortable silence for a while, I stared at the ceiling and Will, actually I had no idea what Will was looking at, I glanced down at him and found that his eyes were still planted on my face. Heat flared into my cheeks again and I immediately looked back up. Will didn't seem at all abashed at having been caught staring at me. Then again, why should he? He was just looking at me, I had no proof that he had been looking at me at all before that moment.

Will rolled over onto his back and my feet dropped down onto his stomach. "What's so interesting about the ceiling?"

I huffed in amusement, "Nothing." I told him, "That's why I'm staring at it."

"For some reason, that doesn't make any sense to me," Will informed me.

I looked down at him, he had a smile on his face, the one that lifted the right side of his mouth higher than the left, and his gaze was firmly planted on the uneven white paint of my boring ceiling.

"I'm trying to think of ways to make it more compelling."

"The ceiling?" he inquired doubtfully.

I nodded in confirmation, moving my gaze upwards again. "The ceiling."

"Like painting it?" His words were full of humor, which I decided to ignore.

I nodded again, "Exactly. Why should ceilings be any less interesting than walls or floors? Just because we don't look at them often doesn't make them unimportant, and maybe if the ceiling was decorative, people would notice it more." I felt like I was talking about more than just ceilings and walls.

"That makes sense, I guess," Will told me, "Maybe I could help you decorate your ceiling."

I closed my eyes, "Okay."

We spent the next couple of hours just talking. I'd never talked this much in my life. We talked about Will's old house and the people he'd left behind, he asked me about Italy and I told him about the canals that made up some streets, and I described the scorching summers and how tourists took pictures of _everything,_ even the little things that seemed so _ordinary_ because I saw them every day, and how now I wished that I had done the same because I missed the place where I had grown up and I had taken it all for granted. After that, I informed him that back then I actually wore things other than black, and he laughed and smiled through the whole thing. He didn't seem to get bored and he dropped subjects immediately that seemed to make me uncomfortable.

I'd asked him if he'd had a girlfriend back home and he'd gotten a smile on his face that was full of amusement like I'd just said the funniest thing in the world and replied simply with, "Not exactly. . ."

He didn't expound any further and I didn't ask him to, if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. It was like an unspoken agreement between us. It was weird how easy it was to talk to him.

Will was sitting in my office chair now, his feet propped up on the desk, flipping through one of my sketch pads and I was sprawled across my bed, Mrs. O'Leary stretched out beside me, answering questions.

The door swung open and we both turned to look at Hazel, me pausing in the middle of explaining that the particular drawing he was looking at was a metaphor for being trapped in your own thoughts. It was a picture of a boy, his face beaten and barely visible between mounds of random objects that symbolized different things, his hand was reaching out of the mass, his face terrified, pleading. It was pretty dark, but Will didn't seem to mind.

She looked back and forth between us, obviously shocked at how casual we seemed. She shut her mouth and shook her head, "It's time to go." She then pulled the door closed, and we heard her footsteps thumping down the stairs.

Will shut the sketch pad and stood up, turning to look at me. I sighed, pushing Mrs. O'Leary off of me and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

Will stretched his arms above his head, "That was fun, we should do it again sometime."

I nodded, "Yeah, definitely."

"See you tomorrow?" Will asked, walking towards my door.

"See you tomorrow," I confirmed, watching as he twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open.

He grinned, "Bye, Nico." And then he stepped out, turning to close the door behind him. It seemed strangely abrupt, but I just shrugged, _Like I know anything about the 'proper' way to say goodbye._


	2. Drastically Optimistic, Hopelessly Innocent, or Extremely Blind

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock blaring-- which is probably the most terrible noise known to mankind and the worst way to wake up-- and rolled over, groaning and pulling my pillow over my head in an attempt at smothering the noise.

It wasn't just that I'm not a morning person _at all,_ I didn't want to get out of bed and acknowledge the fact that I was going to have to get up and force myself through another _merdoso_ day. Eventually, after several minutes of persistent blaring, I sat up, my head still fuzzy from sleep, and forced myself to get up and walk over to where my alarm was perched on my dresser, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I hit the button clumsily and blundered out of my room and across the hall to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I flipped the lights on, blinking against the brightness and then turned the shower on to let the water heat up while I stripped off my clothes, and then stepped in.

I quickly washed my hair and scrubbed my body and then stood under the water, feeling it batter against my back and streak down my bare skin as I mentally prepared myself for another twenty-four hours. I tipped my head up and counted through all of the good things in my life, I found that it helped me to remember that I have things pretty good, that my life is actually worth living.  
I always started with the same seven:

1\. I have a roof over my head.

2\. I have a stepmom who cares about me.

3\. I have enough food to eat.

4\. I have a bed to sleep in.

5\. I have clothes on my back.

6\. I have an education.

7\. I have been exposed to good music.

After that, it got a bit more difficult. I ran my hands through my hair, pushing water out of it and feeling it splatter onto my skin as I racked my brain for another positive aspect of my bland existence.

8\. I have survived this far.

9\. My family is in good financial shape.

10\. I made a friend yesterday.

That was probably the best thing in my life right now, it was actually the best thing that had happened to me in a long time. I was instantly grateful that Marie had made me go across the street to deliver the pie instead of Hazel. I rolled my eyes, imagining her instantly starting to flirt with Will.

My thoughts were interrupted by my step sister banging on the bathroom door, yelling at me to get out. _Speak of the devil._ I thought, shutting off the water and stepping out. There's a shower downstairs too, but if you have them running at the same time there's barely a trickle of water, so it's pretty pointless to have two. I quickly dried off and then wrapped my towel around my waist, scooping my discarded pajama bottoms and boxers off the floor before I opened the door.

"Took you long enough." Hazel sniffed, pushing past me. She wasn't exactly the warmest person.

I ignored her and walked across the hall to my room where I slipped on black skinny jeans and a black skull t-shirt that was so faded the image was merely a ghostly shadow across my chest.  
After that, I went downstairs and ate a fast breakfast before heading to the entryway to slip on my shoes and battered, fraying jacket and grab my backpack. I opened the door and headed out, gripping the straps of my pack tightly and jogging down the steps and out to the sidewalk to begin my daily trudge to school.

"Neeks!" I heard behind me, I froze and turned around, Will was running toward me, grinning.

"Hey," I greeted, offering him a half-hearted smile.

"My mom probably won't be up for a while, I was wondering if I could walk with you to school."

My heart dropped, that's what I'd been fearing. They were almost always waiting for me on the way to school, either to trail behind me with taunts and insults or to give me a quick warm-up beating. I couldn't let Will see that, it would be humiliating. My mind started going 50 miles an hour, trying to formulate an excuse. I opened and closed my mouth and Will's smile faltered fractionally for the slightest moment. _Merda._

"You don't have to," he assured me, shrugging, he didn't look put out at all, but I was pretty sure he was acting.

"No, I-I just. . ." I struggled for words, feeling absolutely terrible. I was almost ready to just let him come and deal with the consequences.

He laughed it off, "Nico, it's fine. I'm sure you have a good reason."

I nodded, "Thanks. I would, I swear, it's just--"

"I'll see you after school?" he asked casually, cutting me off.

My mouth opened slightly without any words coming out and then I nodded. Will smiled at me before turning and jogging back to his house without a backward glance.

I watched him for a second before shaking off my guilt and continuing my march in the direction of the school. I started casting paranoid glances around me, looking for signs that Percy and his gang were sneaking up behind me or hiding around the next corner.

This all started when we'd moved in about four years ago, two years after the fire, which was pretty much when my life had become a living Hell. About a month after our house had burned to the ground we'd moved to the United States. My father hadn't wanted to be in Italy anymore, where there were so many memories and so much pain. He'd wanted to start over. I'd already been taking English classes so it wasn't that hard for me to pick up the new language, plus I had no friends, no home, no reason to want to stay, basically, so I didn't object.

Once we were here, my dad and I lived for a little over a year in a tiny apartment that barely met health regulations. During that time, my dad was always in and out of jobs and we were always scrounging for money. He was almost never home, whether it was because he was working, applying for a job, or drinking. I, on the other hand, was almost always home, I didn't want to talk to people or go places, so I didn't. Basically, nothing has really changed about that, he's still always away and I'm always sitting in my bedroom, not that I mind.

Then, my dad met Marie. I hated her at first, I didn't see how my dad could move on from my mom if he had ever really loved her, but one day, Marie sat me down and explained that she would never try to replace my mom. She'd told me that she didn't even expect my dad to ever love her as much as he'd loved Maria, (the similarities in their names still freaks me out) but she loved him, so that didn't really matter much to her. After that I started realizing that my dad seemed happier, he even smiled when Marie was in the room; so I stopped being a selfish brat and I got to know her better. Eventually, I met Hazel too, she never liked me or my dad, not that I minded, she's not exactly the type of person I'd want to become friends with anyway.

After a while my dad got a job that paid well and he proposed to Marie on the day of their one-year anniversary, she said yes, obviously, and they had a modest wedding shortly after that. All in all, that hadn't been the worst year of my life. I still didn't have any friends, but like I said, I didn't want any, and I cried myself to sleep every night because I missed my mom and sister, but my dad was happy and so that made everything bearable.Everything was great. . . until we moved into our new house.

I guess I brought the bullying on myself, which is part of the reason I never told anyone about what went on. It hadn't started out as bullying, actually, they'd just been trying to talk to me, but I had refused to say anything back. It was mostly because I didn't know what to say, I hadn't really talked to anyone I hadn't lived with since the fire, and I'd wanted to keep it that way. Apparently it had come off as me being some stuck up kid who thought I was too good for everyone else; as you can imagine, they didn't take that very well, and in an attempt to regain their dignity they had started picking on me.

They took every opportunity possible to humiliate me, especially when people were around to see it. It had mostly just been verbal in the beginning, the names they'd called me just kept getting worse and worse as the days went by, every time it seemed I was getting used to one onslaught of insults, they'd come up with an entire army of new ones. It was exhausting.

The tormenting had become physical not long after that, I wasn't sure what switch had suddenly flipped but one day they had me cornered, taking turns mocking me and spitting at my face, then, suddenly, Percy had lashed out and kicked me in the gut and, as always, the rest of them had followed his lead.

A stick snapped under my foot, pulling me back into the present, and my head jerked up. I glanced around apprehensively again and clutched the straps of my backpack tighter, fear cutting through me. I couldn't let my guard down. _Don't think too much, can't think too much. Don't get anxious, can't get anxious. I'm okay. I can be okay._ The words raced through my head again and again, tumbling over one another until they became one frantic, rambling swirl of emotion and letters, pulsing in time with the hysterical beating of my heart. They were basically my life motto, I even had them scrawled in barely intelligible writing on the wall above my bed, over and over, like a madman's ramblings. Writing my thoughts is calming, I guess.

I took in deep breaths and pushed them back out slowly, _I'm okay. I can be okay._ I turned the corner, scanning the road before me and the peering over my shoulder briefly. _Don't get anxious, can't get anxious._ My heartbeat thrummed through my chest and echoed through the rest of my body. The school was in view now. _Don't think too much, can't think too much._

It didn't comfort me that they hadn't attacked yet, it just meant that today they wanted a spectacle, people were going to see and I was going to be laughed at. No one would help and the few people who felt sorry for me would be too afraid of the consequences to do anything about it. I set my jaw, _I've been through this at least a hundred times, one more beating won't change anything. I'm fine._

I lifted my chin up, trying to calm my breathing, determined to walk into that school with as much dignity as I possibly could. I approached the crosswalk, plastering a fairly convincing fake smile onto my face and wishing the crossing guards a good morning as I walked across the thick white lines.

The smile dropped off my features as soon as I stepped onto the grass, immediately replaced with a deadpan look that I had practiced into perfection over the years to hide what I was really feeling. It was funny how much of the emotion I showed was just an act.

I walked into the school, ignoring everyone as I made my way to my locker. I slung my backpack off my shoulder as I reached it, dropping it to the floor and kicking it up against the lockers. I slammed my fist against the thin metal door, listening closely. It didn't sound like there was anything in there, waiting to erupt from inside and bombard me, so I turned my combination into the lock and then cracked it open it slowly, peeking inside, just for extra measure, and then slammed the door open against the next locker. This daily routine used to earn me a lot of weird looks, snickers, and people jumping at the loud banging, but now everyone just kind of accepted it.

I bent down, pulling out everything I didn't need for first period and dumping it in my locker before I slammed it closed again, turned the lock a couple of times and then turning around, slipping my backpack over my shoulders. Jason Grace was leaning against the wall across the hall with a cruel smile plastered over his face. My stomach clunked against the floor and my face paled slightly, I gave him my best death glare and he just laughed, pushing himself off the bricks and disappearing into the flood of students.  
I shook my head, _Don't let him get to you._

I made my way to my first period and pretended to take notes that were really just doodles as the teacher rambled on about Ancient Greek gods. Why we needed to know that Zeus couldn't keep it in his pants was a mystery to me, but I'd ace the test anyways, my brain absorbed information like a sponge without me even trying.

I spent the rest of the day like this, I didn't see Percy and his cronies the whole time, not even during lunch, which I spent alone at my own personal table right next to the garbage cans. I knew they were playing on my emotions, trying to make me worry through the whole day, and it was working.

I shot out of my seat as soon as the bell rang at the end of the day and made a beeline to my locker. Once there, I threw the door open without even checking it first and shoved everything into my backpack as fast as I could. If I could just get out before they found me I could have one school day completely free of fresh bruises.

I pushed past people to get to the doors, not paying any heed to their dirty looks and snarled insults. I stopped dead in my tracks when I got outside, groaning. _I should never have gotten my hopes up._

"Aw, that's cute." Octavian crooned, "He thought we'd let him get away."

A bunch of kids stopped walking and turned to watch, knowing what was about to happen. I felt my face grow hot, both in embarrassment and in rage as I took in the four boys that hadn't left me alone once in the past two years.

Percy Jackson was their unrivaled leader, with his windblown black hair, tan skin, and sea green eyes sliced that right through you. Then there was his right-hand man, Jason Grace, who was blonde with stormy blue eyes and a scar on his lip that looked like he'd won it in a fight. Octavian was probably third down on the food chain, he was the schemer of the group, always coming up with new ways to make me look like an idiot. His head was so far up Jackson's culo that he should have just performed a prostate exam on the guy while he was up there brown nosing. At the bottom of the pack was Frank Zhang, he wasn't the kind of guy you would expect to hang around those three. He only ever kicked me or called me names when Jackson or Grace gave him Inferno about it, which was surprising considering he's the size of a semi truck.

I suddenly realized Jason was saying something and I snapped back into reality, "--you dumbass!"

I stared at him blankly for a second before deciding on just glaring to let him know that I didn't appreciate being called such a profanity.

"He asked you a question," Jason snarled, "Answer."

I groaned inwardly, _Great time to zone out, di Angelo._ I thought sarcastically. "Um. . ." I said lamely, "Yeah, I totally agree. I should definitely go right now." I turned to the right, starting to walk off.

"Did to hear that, guys?" Percy exclaimed, "He thinks it's a good idea to go for a little swim."

_"Fanculo."_ I cursed under my breath, freezing and staring at them like a deer in the headlights as they advanced on me with cruel smiles plastered to their faces, Frank shuffled along behind them, looking uncomfortable.

I glanced from side to side, but there were kids on both sides, snickering at me and whispering to each other. I barely had time to throw my backpack off, hoping no one would do anything to it, before they were upon me. Jason grabbed my left arm, Percy grabbed my right, and Octavian and Frank held the doors for them, a wicked smile plastered to the blonde's face and an apologetic grimace to the Canadian's. The kids who had been gathered around before followed after them like some screwed up procession as they dragged me down the halls while I struggled feebly, eager to see me dumped into the school's swimming pool.

They pulled me through the doors and over to the water's edge, and the assembled crowd laughed and jeered them on.

"I hope you drown and go straight back to Hell where you belong." Percy sneered into my ear, and then the two boys shoved me roughly over the edge.

I hit the water, my breath rushing up from my mouth in a burst of bubbles. I floundered for a moment before righting myself and swimming upwards until my head broke surface of the water. I took in a desperate gasp of air, treading the water frantically, my heavy clothes dragging me down.

The crowd was raving, laughing and mocking me. I swam towards the edge of the pool and grasped the edge, trying to drag myself out, but my head was met with Octavian's dirty shoe. My chin knocked against the edge, my fingers slipping off painfully as I plunged back into the water. I came up gasping again.

"What's wrong?" Percy called, "Can't get out of the pool?"

The crowd erupted into laughter and Jason clapped him on the back. I was close to tears, the water was turning pink around me from my split chin. I turned around, swimming frantically towards the other side of the pool. By the time I got there, Jason was already waiting for me, I stopped, treading water again and glaring up at him.

"Come on." He said in a sickly-sweet voice, "Get out. Don't just stay in there looking like a drowned rat."

I stared up at him, breathing hard, I knew exactly what would happen if I tried, but I didn't have much choice. I gritted my teeth and swam slowly towards the wall, closing my fingers around the top and hauling my body up. I felt his foot connect with my already throbbing chin and I fell back in, gasping in pain and swallowing a mouthful of water into my lungs.

I came up again, sputtering and coughing up the water painfully. I looked around wildly, my breathing ragged, and stared up at Jason, who was smiling like my panic humored him, which it probably did.

"Come on, try again." he urged.

I glowered up at him, "No." I said, barely loud enough for him to hear, hating the way my voice trembled slightly.

The smile slipped right off of his face, his expression clouding over and lightning crackling in his eyes. "What did you say?" he said, dangerously slow.

"No," I replied, louder this time, more confident.

He immediately erupted into movement, lunging forward and gripping me by the collar of my shirt. He yanked me up onto the tiles, my knees, elbows, ribs, anything that could possibly hit the ledge, did.

Once I was drawn up to my full height he let me clatter to the floor, my knees connecting painfully with the tile and my hands slipping on the wet surface. I curled into a ball on the floor, covering my face as his foot connected with my back over and over. Soon enough, two other pairs of shoes joined him. The laughter didn't stop. The only thoughts pulsing through my head were how much it hurt and how cruel people could be.

After a couple of minutes, Percy spat on me, calling me worthless and pathetic, two things I was already aware of, before they left, taking the crowd with them.  
I just laid there, shaking on the floor, and turned onto my back, my eyes tightly closed. I found myself unable to keep the tears from sliding down my cheeks.

_Pathetic. Weak. Ugly. Scrawny. Useless--_

"No," I whispered, the words coming out choked and barely recognizable.

Hauling myself to a sitting position, I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with strangled sobs. After a few minutes, I started taking slow, even breaths, trying to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. As soon as I had myself under control again I pushed myself to my feet, my legs shaking.

"It's nothing I haven't been through before," I told myself, touching my fingers to the cut on my chin, wincing slightly. I looked down at them, the tips were coated in vivid crimson. I sighed, trying to act like it was no big deal, trying to make myself believe it. I turned to start towards the locker room, I hadn't thought it was that bad. Each step was painful, making the bruises, old and new, ache and flare with pain each time my foot pressed to the ground.

I walked up to the sink, examining my face in the mirror. Blood was dripping from my chin and down my neck and a bruise was already forming over my left eyebrow where Octavian had kicked me. I pulled paper towels out of the dispenser and put them under the water, then started cleaning the blood off of my face and neck, grimacing as I dabbed it over the bruised flesh of my chin.

Once I was done I grabbed another towel and pressed it to the cut to stop the bleeding and made my way out of the locker room and down the halls, my sneakers squeaking loudly on the floor and my dripping clothes leaving puddles in my wake. The school was empty save for the thousand-year-old janitor who barely glanced at me as he moved past with the push-broom.

Once outside, I looked around for my discarded backpack and eventually spotted it hanging up in the far branches of a large pine tree.

"Of course," I muttered, walking up to it, "because it would just be too easy to leave it alone."

I walked around the trunk, looking for the lowest branch. Once I found it, I stuffed the paper towel into my pocket and then pulled myself onto it. The bark bit into my palms and its needles poked into my flesh as I got higher and it became harder to avoid them. I pushed my backpack off the branch when I reached it, watching it plummet to the ground, and then climbed down after it. I slung the pack over my shoulders and began trudging my way home, pressing the towel to my chin again.

It felt like all of my energy had been sucked out and it took all of my effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I walked with my shoulders hunched and my eyes cast down, determined not to start crying again. _It's just a couple of bruises and a cut. Nothing I can't deal with._

That much was true. The thing was, if I had acquired the same inquiries by falling down like I was going to have to tell my mom, it wouldn't be such a big deal. It was the fact that for some reason, those boys felt like I deserved this, all of those people who were watching felt like I deserved this, and I couldn't see why they would think that if it wasn't true. I kept telling myself that they were just being jerks, that I was just an easy outlet for their anger, that all of the insults they yelled at me weren't actually true, but I couldn't see why they would do this to me for no real reason. I couldn't see why they would call me those things if they weren't at least partially true. And that hurt.

It hurt the most when they left anonymous notes on my desk or in my locker and I wasn't sure exactly who had written it. The handwriting was always different, so it could have been anyone in the entire school, and if I couldn't put a face to the words, I couldn't put a voice to them either. That meant that I didn't hear their voice telling me all of those things, I heard my own, and that just made it that much more believable.

I shook my head vigorously. _I'm sinking. I can't sink. I can't think too much. Just let it go. I'm fine. I'm alive. Everything will get better eventually. I can't sink. I can't sink. I can't sink._ I repeated the three words over and over in my head, walking in time to their beat, making my breathing slow and even until I reached the corner of my street.  
I stopped, pushing the bloodied towel into my pocket, and spat onto my hand, trying my best to clean up the remaining blood on my face. It wasn't the most sanitary method, but I had to make sure it didn't look too bad in case my mom saw it, I'd deal with cleaning it with soap later. Once I was satisfied that the wound looked fairly clean I looked down at my still-soaked clothes and sighed, there wasn't any way to hide that, I'd just have to tell Marie that I fell into the pool. I forced myself to straighten out my shoulders and put on a small, fake smile, and then I made the turn, putting a confidence into my step that I didn't feel.

My shoes squelched uncomfortably under my feet as I approached my driveway. I rolled my eyes, I'd have put them over the vent in my room, it'd stink up my whole sanctuary if I didn't open the window, and I almost never opened the window.

I heard footsteps racing towards me and my heart stopped beating. _Oh, Dio. No. Not again. Not here._ I turned my head towards the sound and my shoulders immediately slumped with relief, I'd completely forgotten about my new neighbor after the traumatizing ordeal.

"Nico!" Will beamed, and then his eyes landed on my face and he stopped in his tracks, concern written all over his face. Apparently it looked more severe than I had thought. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" He covered the remaining distance between us quickly, "No, never mind, you're obviously not okay. That was a stupid question." He reached his hand out to my chin, but I took a step back, blushing.

"Will, I'm fine, It's just a little cut and some minor bruises. Nothing I can't handle," I told him, echoing my thoughts from earlier.

He frowned, not buying it. "Those don't look minor to me." His gaze swept down my form, "And you're all wet!"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, I noticed."

"Nico, who did this to you?"

I almost flinched, "No one. I fell into the shallow end of the pool."

His gaze remained suspicious, "What were you doing at a pool?"

I rolled my eyes at him again, "The _school's_ pool. I was cutting through there on my way out and I slipped on the wet tile." I rolled the lies off easily, making things up as I went.

He sighed, "Fine. But if I find out you're lying and there's someone picking on you, I'm going to kick your butt and then their's,” he promised, pointing at me and then some phantom version of Percy, Jason, Octavian, and Frank.

I forced a laugh, "Okay, whatever floats your boat, Solace. I'm gonna go and change out of these clothes."

He nodded reluctantly, "Okay, see ya."

"Bye, Will." I gave him a small smile before running up my drive and into the house.

I didn't announce my arrival, not wanting to go through that twice, and headed up to the bathroom to wash my face properly before heading into my room.  
As soon as the door shut behind me, my entire facade crumbled, Mrs. O'Leary jumped off the bed, padding over to me and licking my hand with a concerned whimper. I ruffled her ears, smiling weakly at her before stepping around her bulky form.

I wanted to flop onto my bed and just succumb to the comforting darkness of sleep, but I forced myself to change first. I stripped off my water-clogged Vans and propped them over the air vent, then opened the window, leaving the curtains drawn until I had stripped off my wet clothes and put on different ones.

I turned to my bed and collapsed onto it, curling into a ball and closing my eyes. I was completely exhausted, but I just couldn't get to sleep. My brain was replaying the words of my peers over and over, reliving the humiliation and terror. Eventually, I pulled myself out of bed, needing something to occupy my mind.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, making it stick up at odd angles. "I need to get out of here,” I muttered, crossing the room to my dresser. I pulled out a drawer, grabbed my bathing suit, and quickly changed into the black swim tee and shorts and then slipped on my shoes. I dropped down next to my backpack and dumped all of my school stuff out, then replaced it with my art supplies and a Frisbee.

I ran downstairs, grabbing a towel on the way. Mrs. O'Leary followed behind me, panting excitedly as I filled my backpack with miscellaneous junk food and then headed out. She shook out her fur as we stepped out the door and I stopped, looking across the street and remembering my words from last night, _There's this lake. . . we should go together sometime._

I bit my lip and looked down at Mrs. O'Leary, "What do you think, should we invite him?"

She looked up at me with her huge brown eyes, giving me a lazy dog grin.

"Gee, you're a lot of help," I muttered, laughing at myself. I started walking across the street, it would be easier to keep my mind off things if I had someone to talk to, plus, I liked Will.

I jogged up the steps and rang the doorbell, rocking back and forth on my heels as I waited. After a little bit the door opened to reveal a man who was basically an older version of Will. He grinned broadly, slight smile lines appearing around his eyes. "You must be Nico! Are you looking for Will?"

I nodded, pulling on the straps of my backpack. "I was wondering if he wanted to go swimming with me," I told him, forcing my eyes not to drop to the floor.

He turned to face inside of the house, "Will!" he called, "Come down here!"

Will's tattered blue Converse and long tan legs appeared at the top of the stairs and then clattered their way down. A goofy smile lit his face, and a second later he was standing next to his dad in the doorway, brushing rogue strands of hair from his eyes.

His smile got even bigger as soon as he saw me, which shouldn't have been physically possible. "Neeks!" He greeted, leaning against the door frame, "What's up?"

I shifted awkwardly, a blush rising in my cheeks. "I was going to head to the lake, I was wondering if you'd want to come?"

"Yeah, of course!" he said, his eyes brightening. He sounded so genuinely happy that I had thought to ask that I found myself giving him a small, real smile in return. It felt great. He turned to his dad, "Can I?"

He nodded, smiling at me again, "Yes, but you--"

"Have to be back before dinner." Will finished for him, grinning. "Yeah, I know."

He rolled his blue eyes at his son, "Go get your bathing suit on."

Will laughed again, turning and running up the stairs to where his room was, apparently.

"You can come inside for a minute." Mr. Solace said, opening the door wider.

"Thanks," I replied, flashing a slight smile at him and slipping my backpack off as I walked inside.

He nodded, pulling the door closed and walking towards the hallway. "You can have a seat on the couch if you want, make yourself right at home."

I nodded, making my way towards the beige sofa and taking a seat on the very edge of the cushion, hugging my pack to my chest as he made his way out of the room.

I looked around Will's living room, they had most of the furniture in this room set up, and it was already warm and inviting. The decor was all earthy tones and pretty accents and there were a few boxes scattered across the middle of the floor. On the wall across from me was a large window, letting in plenty of sunlight, and a table sat beneath it, housing pictures of Will's family.

I sat my backpack on the couch beside me and crossed the room, picking up a picture of Will, barely four years old. He was sitting in a field of tall grass, craning his head up to look at the camera being held over him. His mouth was open, laughing, and he was clutching some sort of toy in his lap.

"That was at our old cabin."

I jumped, nearly dropping the frame, and turned to face Will, who was watching me with an amused expression.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I told him, blushing and setting the picture back in its original spot.

Will chuckled at me, handing me my backpack, which he had apparently picked up on his way over here, and slinging a towel over his shoulder. "Come on." His voice was full of humor as he crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Mrs. O'Leary panted up at us from where she was dutifully sitting at the base of the stairs. Will grinned at her, loping down the stairs and stooping down to pet her, he spoke quiet praising words as he ruffled her ears. I huffed in amusement as I watched him, I'd never understood why people talked to their pets in baby voices. I'd always spoken to Mrs. O'Leary like she was a regular person, which was probably more of a problem.

I moved around him and Mrs. O'Leary immediately pulled away to follow. Will laughed and stood up, jogging after her into the trees.

"Wait, there's a lake in here?" He asked, looking around like he expected to see the large body of water hiding behind an oak tree.

I cast my eyes skyward, my mouth quirking up at the corners, "It's a little bit of a walk, Will."

He scowled at me, blushing and earning a tiny, triumphant smile from me, the smallest little twitch at the corners of my mouth. I led him farther into the forest until we stopped at the edge of a gentle slope. The ground turned from grass to dirt and pebbles about ten feet from the bottom of the incline and then disappeared beneath the surface of the lake. A small creek ran in and out at the far side, keeping the water fresh, and in the middle of the lake was a small island with a few trees digging their roots into its surface and extending their branches over the water. The forest surrounded the lake completely, some trees marching right up to the edge of the water.

Will's eyes lit up as soon as he saw it, "No one else goes here?!"

I nodded proudly, "It's all ours," and then took off down the hill, throwing my backpack off underneath a large shade tree and flopping down on my back in the grass next to it. Mrs. O'Leary immediately ran for the lake, splashing around and barking.

Will laughed as he ran after me and plopped down next to my head, looking down at me with an expression of pure joy, "You're awesome."

I snorted, "Because I showed you a big puddle of water?"

"Partially."

I raised my eyebrows at him and he shrugged, pulling himself to his feet, he held his hand out for me. I shook my head, sitting up, "I'm not getting in yet."

"Neeks, we're at a lake!" He flailed his arm in its direction.

I shrugged, "I'll get in later," I promised, scooting back to lean against the tree's trunk.

"Fine." He pulled off his shirt and threw it at me, "Party-pooper."

I pushed the shirt off of me and flipped him off. He laughed, turning and running into the lake, as soon as he was in far enough he dove under, becoming a slim, wavering shape. I smirked, kicking off my shoes and pulling my art supplies out of my bag. I propped my sketchbook against my knees, looking out across the lake, and blew a strand of hair out of my face. I loved it here, it was so serene and beautiful.

Will's head broke the surface of the lake when he got to the more shallow ground near the island, his hair flew out on all sides as he shook his head like a wet dog. My actual wet dog was using her webbed paws to swim powerfully across the lake to meet him, the water parted easily around her waterproof coat; she was in her natural element out there. Will turned around to face her, grinning and urging her on.

I took my attention off them and turned it to my blank paper. I glanced from its smooth, white surface to Will, who was laughing and splashing around in the water with Mrs. O'Leary. I bit my lip, turning my 4B pencil in my fingers a couple of times before setting its tip down and moving it over the paper, leaving a light grey line over its surface. One tiny imperfection, one little line that would eventually shape something much more.

I let my shoulders relax, my hand guiding the pencil easily, just letting the lines flow, occasionally rubbing away an unwanted mark or scrubbing my finger across the graphite to smudge it. I forgot entirely about the lake and the birds tittering in the branches, even the grass underneath me, my entire attention was fixed on the task at hand.

"Coming in any time soon, Neeks?"

I jumped, my pencil stopping mid-line, and looked up at Will.

He was pushing strands of wet hair back from his face, water spilled off of its ends and ran down his freckled shoulders as he crouched down in front of me. "What're you drawing?"

I glanced down at my sketchbook, where his face was beginning to appear, and drew it into my chest, blushing. "Nothing."

His eyebrows lifted doubtfully, "Really? You must be pretty talented if you can depict nothing as something." I glared at him and he laughed, "I'm just kidding, you don't have to show me if you don't want to."

I closed the book quickly, tucking it into my bag again and zipping it closed securely, "Maybe I'll let you see when it's finished."

His eyes glinted humorously, "Okay. You coming?"

I shook my head, "I don't really feel like swimming."

"You put your bathing suit on, you have to at least get in."

"Not necessarily. . ."

Will shook his head vigorously, splattering fat drops of water all over me, "GET IN!"

_“WILL!”_

He shot to his feet and bolted towards the lake, his laughter sounding oddly like a hyena. I leaped up and ran after him, "YOU _CAGNA!"_

Will barreled into the lake with me on his heels and turned around, kicking water at me. I immediately responded by splashing him back and soon enough we were in a full out war with Mrs. O'Leary running around us and barking excitedly.

Will howled with laughter at my enraged attempts to throw water at him and splashed me in return. It quickly became very apparent that Will was not new to this, as I was practically drowning in the great tidal waves being sent my way.

"OKAY!" I yelled through a face-full of lake, "TRUCE!"

Will immediately stopped his assault, still laughing like a madman. I glared at him again, which was probably not very intimidating considering that I was standing chest deep in the lake with my hair plastered over my face and water running off of me in torrents.

"Oh, come on, di Angelo! You know it's funny! You know you want to smile," he teased, smirking mischievously.

I rose an eyebrow at him, completely straight faced, and he frowned, "Nico, don't you ever smile?" he asked, his voice was concerned, but that didn't make the impact of his words any softer. My mood crashed with a painful twinge in my chest.

I took a step back, my lips twitching with the effort of keeping my face from crumbling, "You've only known me for a day." I muttered to the sand that was squelched between my toes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I snapped my head up, catching his eye and daring him to look away, "That you have no right to say whether or not I ever smile."

Will stared at me for a few seconds, "Nico. . . Are you okay?"

I suddenly had the irrational urge scream at him that I _wasn't_ okay, that the world was screwed up, that society was screwed up, and that I was the most screwed up of them all. I wanted to yell at him until my throat was raw, I wanted to lay all of my problems on him at once, the stupid, dark things that shadowed my thoughts constantly, the guilt and pain I harbored over my mother and sister's deaths, the real reason my legs had a substantially greater amount of bruises covering them than was normal and how my back and ribs held even more than that. I wanted to wail about all of the things I'd been called, the humiliation I'd endured. How I knew I deserved it but I still felt _sorry_ for myself. I wanted to pound my fists against his chest and sob into his shoulder and ask him why, out of all the other people on this planet, had God chosen _my_ life to be so hard.

But I didn't do any of that, because deep down I knew that it wasn't Will, or my tormentors, or anyone else, that I was mad at, it was myself. It wouldn't be fair to take out all of that anger on one single person who had been so unexplainably kind to me.

After letting the silence stretch out for far too long, I forced myself to choke out a breathy "Yes," fighting to keep my voice as normal as possible.

"Are you sure?"

But I was walking away from him now, throwing a half-hearted explanation over my shoulder, "We should head back. You need to be back before dinner."

I, of course, didn't know what time the Solace's had dinner, or what time it currently was anyway, but Will followed me without saying a word.

He'd no doubt figured out how broken I was, and if he hadn't, he was either drastically optimistic, hopelessly innocent, or extremely blind. Or maybe all three.


	3. I Become a Deranged Barbie Doll

Will hadn't tried to come out and talk to me this morning, that could either be because I hadn't wanted to walk with him yesterday, or because he wanted nothing to do with me after my weird little mood swing at the lake. Either way, I was pretty sure he was regretting ever saying he'd be my friend and had probably said something along the lines of, "No wonder he's never had a friend before" to himself at least once.

I was holed up in my room again, blasting music loud enough that the Solaces could probably hear it across the street. It was a wonder Hazel wasn't yelling at me, or maybe she was and I just couldn't hear it. I didn't bother to check, instead scratching Mrs. O'Leary behind the ears and reaching over to grab the novel that was open, pages down, off to one side on my bed, when the blue glow of my phone lighting up from its position on my windowsill caught my eye.

I picked it up, the tiny screen on the front told me I had one new message. That was weird since the only numbers in my contacts were my family members, and out of them, my mom was the only one who ever called or texted me. She wasn't the type of person to text me when she was at home with me, which she was at the moment. I paused before flipping it open, trying to think of a way to let down the poor guy who had probably tried to pick up some girl and had been given a fake number, and opened the text.

_Hey, Neeks, it's Will. It seemed like something was bothering you at the lake. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay._

I blinked, unsure which was stranger, the fact that he had somehow acquired my number, or that he was concerned about my well-being. My thumbs did a little dance over the keyboard while I tried to figure out how to respond. At first I typed out a simple inquiry as to how he'd gotten my number, then I'd decided that sounded rude and quickly deleted it. After a long process of typing and erasing in which I considered telling Will that he had the wrong number, I eventually rolled my eyes, typed a quick, "I'm fine" and sent it before I had time to decide otherwise.

Will didn't waste any time texting back, my phone buzzed a couple of seconds later.

_Are you sure? I was worried I might have said something._

_No,_ I hesitated, biting my lip, before I typed the next part. _I just had a bad day, that's all._ It wasn't really a lie. . . just a terminological inexactitude.

_Okay._ he replied, _What happened?_

I swore under my breath, _Nothing you can help._

_Sometimes it helps to talk._

I rolled my eyes, scoffing, and then felt bad. Will was only trying to help. _I don't really like talking._

_I've noticed._ I imagined that he was wearing a smirk right then.

_Will,_ I complained.

_Nico._

_I hate you._ I typed, only half meaning it; the other half of me was trying not to smile.

_You barely even know me._

_I could say the same about you._

It was almost a full minute before Will sent his next message. 

_Then maybe we should get to know each other better._

I rolled my eyes again, _You want to make me go somewhere with you, don't you?_

_Hey, if you don't like me you could just say so._

I was pretty sure he was joking, but these things are kind of hard to tell when all you have to go by are a few emotionless characters on a screen. 

_I just don't like being around people._

_I'm a people._

_A people? Nice grammar, Will._

_Shut up._ I hoped he was blushing. I wished I was there to tease him about it. _My point is that not all people are bad._

_Who said that I don't classify you among those who I don't like being around?_

_Do you?_

_No. . ._ I admitted reluctantly, _you're one of the few people I can tolerate._

_If I bought you ice cream would you tolerate me for an hour?_

**- ******

It was at least three hours and a lot of aimless walking later and we had somehow ended up on top of the public library. 

********

"Why are we here anyway?" Will wondered, leaning back on his hands and staring out over the houses and other assorted buildings to the mountains in the distance. The sky was completely cloudless and the day would probably have been miserably hot of not for the ever-present breeze that was rustling the leaves and making it feel quite nice outside. 

********

"I have no idea, but it was _your_ idea." 

********

Will tipped his head back so he could see me where I was sitting above him and to his right, my elbows resting casually over my knees. "Oh yeah, it was, wasn't it?" 

********

I snorted, rolling my eyes, but there was a little smile on my face. Will gave me a goofy grin back and laid down completely, "It's kind of nice up here, isn't it?" 

********

I nodded, looking down at him, "Yeah. . . it is." 

********

Will closed his eyes, a serene smile plastered onto his face, "When do you have to be home?" 

********

I shrugged, "My mom wouldn't care if I missed dinner. . . I don't know, I don't really leave the house so Marie hasn't really specified a curfew. . ." 

********

Will opened one eye, his face splitting into a grin, "Rad." 

********

I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, "Rad?" 

********

Will shrugged, which was a bit awkward considering his horizontal position on the roof, and then patted the spot next to him, "Lay down with me." 

********

I shook my head, "I like the view." 

********

I _am_ the view." Will stated smugly, closing his eyes again and looking a bit like a Cheshire cat basking in the sun. 

********

I decided to ignore him, closing my eyes as well and enjoying the wind whispering through my hair and the sunlight warming my cheeks, imagining that Bianca and Maria were smiling down at me. The thought brought a mix of happiness and longing that made my chest ache. 

********

I was thoroughly relaxed, completely lost in my own cogitation, and had completely forgotten I wasn't alone when Will's voice broke into my thoughts. "Are you wearing sunscreen?" 

********

My eyes fluttered open and drifted down lazily to meet his, "No?" 

********

Will's eyes bulged and he shot up, turning to face me and untying his hoodie from around his waist. "YOUR PALE COMPLEXION IS AT RISK!" he hollered dramatically, scurrying behind me to drape it over my shoulder. 

********

I turned to look at him, confusion furrowing my brow, "Will--" 

********

"YOU'RE ITALIAN, NICO!" 

********

"I realize that." 

********

Will was suddenly in front of me again, gripping my shoulders, his striking blue eyes boring into my muddy brown ones like he was trying to make me realize something extremely important, "ITALIANS TAN EASILY, NICO!" 

********

I started laughing, "You are the weirdest--" 

********

I was rudely interrupted by an angry-sounding man yelling at us to get off the roof. Will's head snapped around to look at where the man was standing, shaking his fist angrily at us. His demeanor changed from dramatic concern to extreme urgency in an instant and he grabbed my hands, hauling me to my feet, "RUN!" 

********

He practically dragged me over to the edge of the roof where we had climbed up, "JUMP!" I didn't have much choice in the matter, considering that Will still had my hand in a death grip, which was probably his intent. The drop from this section of the roof wasn't that far, and we both landed on our feet, stumbling forward a couple of steps before we started running again. 

********

The guy was coming around the corner after us, yelling about 'selfish, reckless teenagers' and threatening to call the cops, dropping in few choice words whenever he deemed it necessary. I wasn't really sure if we could actually be punished by the law for sitting on a roof, but I ran faster anyway, still clutching Will's bright red hoodie. 

********

Will pulled me around the corner; he didn't stop running until we were several neighborhoods away, and then he turned to face me, laughing and releasing my hand. 

********

I braced myself against the cinderblock wall, panting heavily, "This is. . . the most. . . exercise. . . I've gotten. . . in years." 

********

That only made Will laugh harder, which brought a smile to my face. He leaned his back against the wall next to me, crossing his arms over his chest, "If you would've known you'd be needing to run away from an angry librarian in your future, would you have ventured from your room to run a couple of laps?" 

********

"Probably not. . ." I admitted. 

********

He chuckled, "Of course not." 

********

I glared at him playfully, "Shut up." 

********

Will reached out and tapped my nose, simultaneously pushing himself off the wall. "Not a chance, Neeks." 

********

I regarded his retreating back with indignation, "Did you just boop my nose?" 

********

"Maybe." Will cast over his shoulder; a coy smile was playing over his face. 

********

I hurried to catch up with his long strides, practically jogging behind him. "Nobody boops my nose." 

********

Will tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts, a definite swagger in his walk. "And why is that?" 

********

"Because I said so." 

********

"Oh, feisty." I could only see the back of his head, but I knew that he was probably wearing the world's biggest smirk right then. 

********

"Shut up and take your jacket back," I told him, feigning annoyance. 

********

He glanced back at me, "And if I don't?" he asked slowly. 

********

"I'll feed you to Mrs. O'Leary. " It came out as more of a question than a threat. Will's rich laughter filled the street as he turned around to face me, walking backward. 

********

"You're going to run into something," I informed him. 

********

"I trust that you'll warn me before that happens," he replied nonchalantly. 

********

I threw his sweatshirt at him, "Whatever." He caught it easily, "How do you know I'm trustworthy?" 

********

Will grinned, "You'd really let me run into a pole?" 

********

"If it taught you to watch where you're going." 

********

Will rolled his eyes and turned back around, "You're no fun." 

********

I ran a couple of steps to come up next to him, "No, I'm just smart." 

********

Will looked down at me, slipping his jacket on despite the heat, but leaving it unzipped. "Are you calling me dumb?" 

********

I felt my cheeks redden, "Well, no. . ." 

********

"FINALLY!" Will exclaimed, "I thought you'd become a vampire overnight." 

********

I scowled at him, "Shut up." 

********

He bumped his shoulder against mine, "I'm just teasing you, Neeks." 

********

I bumped him back, still blushing and looking the other direction. "I know." 

********

Will continued grinning the entire way back to our street; I felt a little twinge of disappointment in my chest as my house came into view, and found myself wishing we would have walked a little slower. I started veering away from Will's side, casting a reluctant goodbye back at him, but turned back around when I saw the expression on his face. It was a look of confusion that made him resemble a lost puppy. 

********

"Where're you going?" he questioned, his frown deepening. 

********

I paused for a second, "Home?" 

********

A light blush painted his cheeks pink, "Oh. . . right," he said, looking towards the asphalt. 

********

I cracked a small smile, "Want me to stay?" 

********

He glanced up at me, shrugging nonchalantly, which made my smile grow for some reason. "Only if you want to." 

********

I strode over to him, "I guess I don't have anything better to do." 

********

"Pah-lease," he said, grinning. "Being with me is the best way you could possibly spend your time." 

********

_"Someone_ has an ego," I teased as we started walking towards his house, even though it was actually true. All l I would be doing if I went home was laying in my bed like the lazy oaf I am. 

********

"You bet I do." Will winked at me. 

********

"Weirdo." 

********

"Shortie." 

********

"Hey, now. There's no reason to make fun of my height." 

********

Will rested his arm on top of my head, "There's plenty reason." 

********

I ducked away from him, sticking out my tongue as we made our way up the stairs. Will grinned at me, pulling his keys from his pocket and using them to open the door, "You're _soooo_ mature." 

********

"You bet I am." I pushed past him, doing my best to look stuck-up. The cool air of the house was a pleasant contrast to the heat outside. 

********

Will walked in after me, "Oh, sassy." 

********

I turned and leaned luxuriously against the banister, "I'm the world's greatest Sass Master." 

********

"Sorry," Will said, not sounding sympathetic at all and closing the door behind him. "That position's already taken." 

********

I put on a confused face, surprising myself by not even letting the slightest trace of a smile sneak over it. "Oh, really? By who?" 

********

"I think you might know him. He's about 6'2", ruggedly handsome, blonde hair, _gorgeous_ blue eyes, and a dazzling smile. He's a kick-ass musician and I hear he's not bad at dancing either." 

********

I pretended to think for a couple of seconds, "Nope. Doesn't ring a bell." 

********

"Too bad. He's a pretty great guy." 

********

I allowed a small chuckle. "And humble too." 

********

"So you admit it!" Will exclaimed triumphantly. I was beginning to wonder if his smile even had a certain point it couldn't exceed because each one seemed to be bigger than the last. 

********

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Come on, Hot Shot, I want to see your room." 

********

Will got a peculiar look on his face like he was trying really hard not to laugh at something, except I hadn't said anything funny. Unless Will found that much humor in me calling him a hot shot. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised. He moved past me and began running up the stairs, taking them two at a time and making it seem effortless. Like he was leisurely strolling through the park. I released a desolate sigh and followed after him, not even making any effort to catch up with him but still almost running all the same 

********

Will was leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs like he'd been waiting there all day when I got to the top. "It's about time, slow poke." 

********

I glowered, "It's not my fault you have spidery legs and I don't." 

********

"No," Will relented, abandoning his post against the wall. "But it's still fun to tease you about it." 

********

"Yeah, it's fun on the giving end." I was only half-kidding now. 

********

"Fortunate for me, that seems to be my current position." Not taking any notice of my antagonistic tone, he abruptly veered towards a door and opened it, turning to face me and gesturing grandly inside, "After you." 

********

I swept into the room, "Thank you, kind sir." 

********

Will entered behind me, chuckling. "As you can see, I'm still in the process of unpacking." 

********

I arched my eyebrow, taking in boxes and boxes of miscellaneous items and a few pieces of assorted furniture that were scattered around the room at random; his bed was off to one side, at a 45-degree angle to the wall. The only thing that he seemed to have taken the time to place was a Mumford  & Sons poster hanging on one wall. "Have you even started yet?" I asked, trying not to laugh. 

********

Will smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, "I haven't exactly gotten around to it yet. . ." 

********

"And you called _me_ lazy." 

********

"I may have said that you're short, but never lazy," Will pointed out. 

********

It was in your tone of voice, I could hear you _thinking_ it." 

********

"You're telepathic?" Will asked, doing a surprisingly good job of seeming awed at my "ability." 

********

I nodded, "It's one of my many talents." 

********

"So you can tell what I'm thinking right now?" 

********

"Oh. . . well, not right this. . ." I trailed off, getting distracted by a box labeled "Photography" in big letters. The handwriting was extremely neat, I noted. 

********

"That might just be for the b--" Will started, but immediately cut himself short and moved to intercept me as soon as he saw where I was headed. "Those are kind of personal," he explained sheepishly. His back was turned towards me and his fingers brushed over the lid like it was a bomb and any more pressure would cause it to combust. 

********

He turned to face me, looking embarrassed, his hands still resting on the box behind him. "Maybe later. . ." 

********

I could tell that my face had once again decided to impersonate a turnip and I cast my eyes downward. "No, I'm sorry, I should have asked." 

********

Will brushed off my apology immediately, "There's no harm done." His voice was sincere enough, but he seemed reluctant to step away from the box, as if he was afraid I would pounce at the chance to get ahold of the pictures. 

********

A very awkward silence would have probably ensued if the door wouldn't have burst open at that moment. 

********

_"Bear!"_ The little girl who had thrown the door open rushed forward, her long, brunette hair flying out behind her, and leaped into Will's arms. I was fairly sure she wouldn't have made it if Will hadn't bent down to catch her. 

********

He straightened, grinning and shifting her so he could hold her on his hip. "Hey, Kit." 

********

But she was having none of it, despite her ecstatic greeting she now wore a deeply grumpy expression. "Why were you gone all day? You promised me that we could go to the--" she cast a furtive glance my way before whispering loudly, "tree house." 

********

Will's face immediately crumpled into shock and self-deprecation. "Oh," he said, squeezing his eyes shut, "I completely forgot." 

********

"That's okay!" Kit said, smiling brightly once more and tugging on the strings of his hoodie. "We can still go!" 

********

He glanced over at the window, where we could still see the sun hanging in the sky just above the horizon. "Well. . . it's getting dark outside. . ." he didn't need to finish the sentence; Kit was already staring disappointedly down at his chest. 

********

"But that doesn't mean we can't have fun here!" 

********

She squealed as he spun her around before swooping her down to the floor, giggling. Will ruffled her hair fondly, "So, what do you want to do?" 

********

**-**

********

I glared up at Will (who was trying to look sympathetic, and failing miserably, as he had to keep turning his face into the mound of blankets atop her bed to suppress fits of laughter) over Kathrin's head while she sorted through her nail polish. My face was thoroughly unrecognizable, as she had coated it with gallons of makeup. I wasn't an expert on the stuff, but I was pretty sure that ninety percent of it wasn't even in the right place and the feathery green boa wrapped around my neck was really starting to itch. 

********

She returned her green eyes to my face and I immediately rearranged it back into a smile as she held a neon pink shade up to my face. 

********

"Bear!" (Will composed himself long enough to look up at her.) "Does this color match his complession?" 

********

Will's lips twitched as he met my death glare, and then he nodded. 

********

_"I hate you,"_ I mouthed to him. 

********

Kit turned back to me, "What do you think?" 

********

"It's really pretty," I responded with a forced smile. 

********

She beamed, "I thought so too!" And then she unscrewed the cap, rambling about how it was her favorite color while I watched in horror as my nails were coated with the ungodly substance. When I looked back up at Will he had his face buried in the pillows again and his shoulders were shaking with uncontrollable mirth. 

********

"Finished!" Kit exclaimed, recapping the bottle. 

********

I looked down at my nails, unlike the makeup, she actually seemed to know how to accurately apply the nail polish and had done a pretty good job. Not that that made things any less embarrassing. 

********

I forced myself to look up at Will again, he was, of course, wearing an expression of barely contained laughter. 

********

"Doesn't he look pretty?" Kit asked him hopefully, scooting out of the way to give Will a better view. For once, I was actually glad for the fifty pounds of powder on my face, as it concealed the blush that was heating up my cheeks. 

********

Will nodded, his lips twitching with the effort of not laughing. "He looks beautiful." 

********

I caught myself right before I groaned and buried my face in my hands and instead sat there awkwardly while Kathrin admired her work proudly and Will tried to discreetly reach for his phone. I glared at him and he hesitantly pulled his hand away from the device. 

********

Will's eyes snapped over to Kit's Disney Princess alarm clock as she yawned widely, the time read 9:43. 

********

Will swore quietly and then cast an alarmed glance at Kit, but she didn't seem to have heard him. 

********

"Hey, Kit. I think it's time for you to go to sleep," he told her, climbing out of her bed. 

********

"But I'm not tired," she informed him through another yawn. 

********

"Maybe not," Will said, smiling, "but me and Nico are, and we want to go to bed." 

********

She looked from Will to me doubtfully, "You don't look tired." 

********

I quickly faked a yawn at the same time Will did. 

********

"Okay," she relented after a few seconds, "I'll let you two sleep." 

********

"Thanks, Kit," Will said, rubbing his eyes tiredly like a little kid. 

********

We helped her clean up and left the room while she changed into her pajamas and then Will went in to tuck her in. I stood awkwardly outside the door for a second until Will laughed at me and told me to come in. 

********

"Will you sing me a song?" she asked tiredly. 

********

Will smiled warmly at her, "Of course." 

********

He left to get his guitar-- "She's a folk guitar-- steel strings," Will had said, it had a pretty, midnight blue top and black sides, back, and neck-- and then perched himself on the foot of Kit's bed, the instrument lying across his lap. "What song?" he asked, strumming it once. 

********

"The one Dad wrote for us. . ." she mumbled. 

********

Will smiled, "Good choice." 

********

He hovered his fingers over the strings, glancing over at me nervously, and then he started strumming; after a few seconds, he added his voice to the tune. I gasped quietly and Will blushed a bit, which made me laugh. I had expected him to be good, but his voice was absolutely beautiful; low and rich like melted chocolate flowing slowly out of a container. It was something I could listen to all day. The lyrics of the song and the notes Will was coaxing out of the guitar wove together to make a heart-melting melody, and he looked utterly lost in his own music, strands of golden hair falling into his eyes, shoulders relaxed, fingers moving easily over the strings. 

********

His voice grew quieter and quieter as Kit's eyelids drooped until he was almost whispering and her breathing was slow and even. His voice tapered off in the middle of a sentence, much to my disappointment, and he stood up, kissing her forehead before he gestured for me to follow him out of the room. 

********

I waited until Will had closed the door softly to speak. "Do you have any makeup remover?" I asked sheepishly. 

********

Will laughed, "Yeah, come on. I think there's some in the bathroom." 

********

**-**

********

Will finished wiping the last remnants of the makeup off of my face while I furiously scrubbed at my fingernail with nail polish remover. 

********

"Thanks," Will said randomly, pausing his work with the makeup remover wipe still pressed to my cheek. 

********

I looked up at him in confusion, "For what?" 

********

"For letting my little sister make you look like a deranged, murderous Barbie doll," he explained, turning and throwing me a lopsided smile as he shot the wipe he'd been using into the trash. 

********

I rolled my eyes, "I didn't really have much choice in the matter." 

********

"No, I guess not." Will turned back around to face me, still smiling. 

********

I kicked my legs back and forth, my heels thumping softly against the cabinet under the bathroom sink that I was sitting on. I wasn't exactly sure what to say and Will seemed to realize this, as he quickly asked if I wanted to watch a movie or if I should head home. 

********

I shrugged and jumped off of the counter, agreeing to stay for a little while longer. Will grinned and led the way downstairs, where I plopped down on the couch while he put in a movie before joining me. Will commented all through the whole thing, but I didn't mind. I liked hearing his crazy predictions and opinions and his (most of the time inappropriate) jokes. 

********

At some point, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew I was blinking against the brightness of the light filtering through the window. For some reason, my first thought was that my room usually didn't smell like lemons and the outdoors. I sat up straight and realized that I was curled up on Will's couch and my head had been resting on his shoulder. 

********

_"Merda!"_ I cursed loudly, comprehending that I had accidentally slept over at the Solace's and I had no idea what time it was. 

********

I scrambled to my feet, plunging my hands into my pockets in search of my phone. Will opened his eyes blearily, "Nico. . ." his brow furrowed in confusion, "Nico, why are you--" 

********

WILL!" I yelled, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?" 

********

"No, but I don't see--" 

********

My fingers finally brushed against the device and I yanked it out of my back pocket gratefully, flipping it open with such force that I was surprised it didn't snap in half. _"FANC--"_

********

Realization dawned on Will's face, and then he immediately looked amused, "Nico--" 

********

_"--ULO!_ I'M SUPPOSED TO BE IN--" 

********

_"Nico!_ Y--" 

********

"--SECOND PERIOD RIGHT NOW, MY MOM IS GOING--" I babbled hysterically, looking around for my shoes and ignoring Will. 

********

__"NICO DI ANGELO--!"_ _

********

"TO KILL ME! I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU'RE HOMESCHOOLED BUT--" 

********

"NEEKS! IT IS A _SATURDAY!"_ Will finally yelled. 

********

I stared at him, my hair flying in every direction, mid-act of putting on my shoe. "Oh," I said, lowering my foot. Will started laughing, which of course earned him one of my signature glares. 

********

He fell back against the couch and patted the spot next to him, yawning, "Come on, we can sleep a little while longer." 

********

I stood awkwardly in front of him, I wasn't really tired at all and the idea of purposefully snuggling up next to him made me feel extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable. 

********

Will opened one of his eyes, "What's taking you so long, Neeks?" 

********

"I. . . er. . . I'm not really tired," I improvised, blushing. 

********

Will sighed. "Yeah, I'd be wide awake too if I woke up and hopped around, screaming like you just did." 

********

"I was not--" 

********

"Teasing, Nico," Will reassured me, pulling himself up from the couch, "I'm teasing." 

********

He grinned at my exasperated expression and started making his way towards the stairs, "You hungry?" 

********

I nodded grudgingly and followed up to the kitchen, where he started pulling out everything we needed to make "an epic breakfast." 

********

"My mom likes French toast, my dad likes blueberry pancakes. . . my sister likes eggs and toast, and I like chocolate chip pancakes. Oh, look! We have bacon. . ." Will rambled, pulling things out of the various locations where his family kept food and loading them into my arms. 

********

It was already getting to the point where I couldn't see above the huge mass of food, so I tottered cautiously over to the counter and set everything down on it. 

********

"NICO! HEADS UP!" 

********

"Wha--" I had barely turned around when I saw something flying towards my face. I reached out to catch it and it broke all over my hands-- egg squelched through my fingers. 

********

Will feigned annoyance, but I could tell this had been his intention; he was trying not to laugh. "Get it together, Nico," he teased. 

********

"This was a perfectly good egg," I said, somewhere in between exasperation and amusement. 

********

"I know," Will said, laughing as I made my way over to the sink. "But it was totally worth it to see the look on your face." 

********

"Dork," I said, smiling as I washed my hands. 

********

I turned around and leaned against the counter, watching Will pull various measuring cups and bowls from a drawer. "Are we making these from scratch?" 

********

"Well, of course," he replied, not looking up from his task, "That's the best way to do anything. I find that if I work for something I appreciate it a lot more. And plus, these taste way better than any stupid mix anyway." 

********

I laughed and crossed the kitchen to stand next to him, "Where's the recipe?" 

********

Will tapped his temple importantly, "It's all up here. Measure out 1 1/4 cups flour," he said, grabbing a small measuring cup and pulling the salt towards him, "While I get the salt." 

********

I looked over at Will, who was carefully pouring salt into the 1/2 teaspoon and not paying any attention to me, and back down at the flour, a smile creeping onto my face. Before I could change my mind, I delved my hand into the bag and pulled out a handful. Will looked up at me to say something at the same moment that I flung it at him and he got the majority of it directly in the face. 

********

I immediately started laughing and then stopped abruptly when Will grinned wickedly and seized the bottle of syrup that was sitting on the counter. My eyes widened to the size of saucers, "No, wait! I'm sorry, I--" I was cut off by a stream of syrup hitting me in the face. 

********

I stood there for a couple of seconds with the thick, sticky liquid leaking off of me, and then I lunged across the counter for the sugar while Will bolted to the pantry. 

********

I assailed his back with fistfuls of sugar, yelling taunts while he yanked the pantry door open and pulled out a can of Easy Cheese. I attempted to duck, but I wasn't fast enough, as a large quantity of it splattered all over my hair, and the rest flew over my head, splattering the floor and a few of the nearby cabinets and drawers. 

********

Will shook up the can enthusiastically as I ran past him, heading for the refrigerator. I felt more of the orange-yellow paste spray over my back, but I was having too much fun to really care. I jerked open the refrigerator and scanned its contents quickly, my eyes landed on a bottle of ketchup, which I immediately snagged and uncapped. 

********

As soon as I turned around, I was hit in the face with a jet of Easy Cheese; I sprayed the ketchup blindly, hoping to hit Will. When I opened my eyes I found that only a small amount had hit him in the chest and the rest was spattered over various areas of the kitchen. We both froze, aiming our 'weapons' at each other threateningly, me with a lethal glower, and Will with a devilish smirk. 

********

_"What_ are you doing?" 

********

We shared a shell-shocked expression and then turned slowly to face Mr. Solace, who was staring around his kitchen in horror. 

********

Will shrunk under his father's gaze, "We'll clean it up," he promised in a small voice. 

********

"You bet you will. After you finish making breakfast," he pointed over to where we had left everything on the counter. Will raised his eyebrows at him and he shrugged, "I'm hungry," and turned to walk back upstairs. 

********

His son laughed, shaking his head, strands of radiant hair fell in front of his eyes. "Come on, let's clean this up first." 

********

**-**

********

"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" Will asked as I tugged on my shoes at his front door, we'd done our best to get the food out of our clothes before my mom had called and said that she wanted me home, she never said why. 

********

I looked up at him in surprise, "Tomorrow?" 

********

Will cracked a smile. There was something in his expression I couldn't quite read. "Well, yeah. Unless you have something you need to be at." 

********

I blushed, "Well, I have, er, I have church an--" 

********

"Oh!" Will said, smiling understandingly, "Yeah, yeah, that's fine." 

********

My eyebrows shot up, I frequently got made fun of at school for being Catholic. "Really?" 

********

Will looked slightly confused, "Well, yeah." 

********

"Oh. . . Well, yeah. Thanks." I stood up, feeling extremely awkward. 

********

Will gave me one of his easy smiles and my shoulders relaxed immediately, "I'll see you on Monday, Neeks." 

********

He opened the door and I waved to him stepping out, "See you." I heard the door close behind me as I made my way down the steps. 

********

I pushed my door open, mentally condemning myself to spending the rest of the day doing average, normal things like I always did. No climbing on libraries or being humiliated by five-year-olds. "Mom, I'm ho--!" My throat tightened around the word, choking it and holding it down as I stared in stunned silence at the couch. 

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who's reading this, you're all awesome :D I'll be updating every Tuesday for the first 11 (possibly 12) chapters because those are the ones I have finished (since I originally started writing this on Wattpad, they're all on there if you want to read them now, but you have to make an account first, which is why I'm updating on here too). After that, updates will be really random, I'll just put chapters up whenever I finish them :)


	4. It Was Supposed to Hurt

"D-Dad?" I stuttered, gripping the doorknob tight enough that my fingers turned paper white.

Hades was dressed as usual, in a suit and tie with his hair slicked back and carefully styled in a way that was popular in Italy. He had a strong, square jawline, black eyes, and a worry-worn face that had been tanned at one time but was now pale from spending all of his time at an office desk or at business meetings. That was the only similarity between us that I could see, our complexion. Like all of the color had been drained out of us along with our happiness.

He smiled grimly, nodding, "Nico."

I hadn't seen him in six months and that's all he had to say to me? I guessed he was probably thinking the same thing.

"You're home early." I swallowed, forcing myself to relax my grip on the knob and shut the door. I felt like I was trapping myself, cutting off my last chance to run back to Will's.

Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, but he just hasn't been the same since the fire. There was a brief period of time after he met Marie and they got married when he was happy again, back to his old self, but now he was more reserved, his temper was short, and I hardly ever saw him. Maybe it was stress from work, maybe he just wanted his wife and daughter back. I wouldn't blame him for wishing it had been me instead of Bianca.

He nodded again, attempting what was probably supposed to be a warm smile. He looked like a wilting flower, still fighting for life and grace despite the fact that it was slowly dying. "I wanted to surprise you."

 _Well, you definitely achieved your goal, then._ I grinned back, I hoped my fake smiles were more convincing than his. If they weren't, then the light never touched my eyes. I'd never considered the possibility before, that my eyes always looked sad even when I was smiling. "It's good to see you."

Hades stood up and crossed the room, he towered over me just like everyone else. I started slightly when he stooped down to envelope me in a hug. I stood there in shock for a couple of moments before I returned the embrace. My father's arms were strong and reassuring, I wondered what his face looked like, if I could detect false emotion in it right then.

"I missed you," he told me, he sounded truthful, at least.

"You never call." The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Hades released me and straightened, and I instantly regretted them, looking at the ground.

He sighed, a desolate sound that echoed my regret. "I know."

I looked up to meet his troubled gaze, I'd recognize that face anywhere, it was the same expression that had stared me down in the mirror so many times in the past. The one that said I was bottling up my emotions and I shouldn't be. The one that said I had finally hit rock bottom again and I needed to scramble my way out of the hole I'd dug myself into. I never reached the surface.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been the greatest father to you." He laughed hollowly. "I've hardly been your father at all." His accent was still thick, but his English was good. He hardly ever made mistakes when he spoke, and when he did, they weren't life-changing.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Hades held a hand up, "You and I both know it's true, but I'm here to try and make it up to you."

I stared at him in shock. No matter how many times I'd wished this would happen, I'd never thought it actually would. "What about your work?"

"I took three weeks off." My eyes widened, my dad hadn't been home for more than a week before. Hades didn't seem to notice. "I tried to get a full month, but Mr. Zoose said that three weeks was pushing it and I need that job to pay the bills." He sighed regretfully.

"No, that's. . . Thank you," was all I could think to say.

My dad smiled at me, this time it wasn't forced and awkward, and sat back down on the couch, gesturing for me to join him. He waited until I'd perched myself on the leather cushion before he continued speaking.

"I think it's time I start putting my family before my work. So what do you want to do while I'm here?"

"I guess. . ." I hesitated, worried I would upset my father by mentioning our old life. "Remember, back in Italy, we'd always go to that shop to get gelato?" I asked timidly.

My father smiled sadly, nodding. "The best gelato in town. Your mother always got _stracciatella."_

I smiled back, "And me and Bianca would get vaniglia and load it with toppings."

Hades chuckled, shaking his head. There was a moment of silence. I think we were both remembering my mother's laughter and Bianca wiping the sticky gelato off my face, the warm air, and the beautiful trees. It was all a little blurry now. "I guess we could find _gelato_ somewhere," he said finally.

"It'll never be as good as authentic Italian _gelato_. . ." I said, closing my eyes and remembering the taste.

My father nodded, "But it will be better than American ice cream."

I nodded back, "What else should we do?"

Hades slapped his knee, "Home-cooked pizza!"

I laughed, _"Tutto Italiano!"_

My father laughed along with me, and I felt like I was a little kid again, not a care in the world. My family was still whole and I was happy. Hades started asking me questions after that about "my new friend" and school and home, what I'd been doing, how things were. I answered them all truthfully. He never asked anything I had to lie about, which I was grateful for. I didn't like lying to people.

After a while, we ran out of things to talk about, and he said he wanted to go talk to Marie and Hazel, that they were just as much his family as I was, and I nodded and jogged up to my room.

Mrs. O'Leary hadn't come to greet me when I walked into the house, and she wasn't waiting in my room, so I assumed she was out back. I plopped onto my bed and pulled my phone out.

 _You'll never believe what just happened._ I texted to Will.

-

A day later, on Monday morning, my father woke me up early. He was smiling broadly, saying we were going to have an authentic Italian breakfast, I looked up at him blearily. "How can you wake up so early?"

He shrugged, "I have a lot of lost time to make up for, and so do you. Now, get up."

So I swung my legs over the side of the bed and followed him into the kitchen. He'd already baked everything and had it sitting out on the counter.

"Home-cooked _cornetti_ and black _caffé."_ he said, smiling widely.

I'd been around him all day yesterday and I was still getting used to having him back. Not just having him here, but acting like his old self, slipping Italian words into his sentences, his eyes twinkling, living life to its fullest.

We both took a _cornetto,_ poured ourselves a mug of coffee, and dug in, talking as we ate. I'd almost forgotten I had to go to school by the time we'd finished, but an hour later I was trudging out the door after my dad said goodbye.

The most exciting thing that had happened in the four periods I had been at school was some idiot choking on his eraser. I'd barely glanced up from my copy of _Shadow and Bone_ by Leigh Bardugo. Unfortunately, that was enough for me to know that it was the same kid plopping down in front of me at lunch with a dangerously elfish expression. I say unfortunately because if I hadn't seen him generally making a fool of himself earlier and if he hadn't been talking loudly during a very intense part of my novel, my first impression of him might have been a good one. _Might._

He stuck his hand out across the ugly, faded yellow surface. "The name is Leo Valdez, but most people just call me Leo."

I stared at him stonily and his huge smile wavered very slightly. My lip twitched upwards as his hand withdrew back into his lap.

"This is my table," I informed him.

Leo shrugged, "Not really. It belongs to the school." he said with a smirk.

I stared at him with one eyebrow raised. He didn't seem embarrassed.

"You still haven't told me your name," he stated, like I wasn't glaring daggers at him and we were carrying on a lively conversation.

I sighed, "My name is Nico di Angelo. _Now_ will you leave me alone?"

Leo nodded, "For now."

He stood up and walked away before I recovered enough from my shock to stand and yell at him to never talk to me again. What can I say? I'm a very welcoming and warm person. But seriously, is it a crime to want some alone time at a school where you're just a form of entertainment? Like a punching bag or a soccer ball.

Other than that, the day dragged on as usual. I got an award-winning bruise right between my shoulder blades and a huge load of homework sitting right on top it, weighing down my backpack. I wasn't in a good mood at all. Today's episode of _Kick Nico Where It Counts_ had been a little different. So, I guess it really hadn't been completely normal, I'd just been telling myself that it had been.

The scene replayed in my mind again, making my shoulders slump a little more.

_I was hurrying down the hall, trying to get to sixth period on time. Ice crawled up my back as an unpleasantly familiar voice whispered in my ear._

_"A little birdy told me your mommy and sister died in a fire and it was_ all your fault. _”_

_I felt like I was going to puke. They knew. I could almost hear Percy's triumphant smile. A wave of white-hot anger thrashed inside of me and I whipped around, throwing my fist against his smug face as hard as I could. Pain exploded across my knuckles as he stumbled backwards, probably more out of shock than pain, but I hardly noticed._

_I stalked forward, "You can say_ all you want _about me, but you_ do not _even have the right to_ mention _my family." I snarled. "And if I ever hear you speak of them again I will_ crush you. _”_

 _Percy didn't answer, he just stared at me in absolute shock. That just made me even more angry, I shoved him as hard as I could. I wanted him to beg me for forgiveness, or at least cower away from me. I wanted to know that he knew I meant every word I said._ "GOT IT? _"_

 _Percy sneered and spat in my face, "Why are you getting so defensive?" And then his smile grew even bigger, "It_ was _your fault, wasn't it?" ___

_I let out the most blood-curdling scream I could muster and threw myself at him. I didn't even have time to get another punch in before I was dragged backward, Frank was holding me down while Percy got to his feet, smiling like he'd just won a gold medal. ___

_He kicked me a few more times before the hall monitor finally noticed what was going on and stopped him. For the first time in the last two years, they had gotten detention along with me. That only meant more time for them to torment me._

____I shook my head, tears were falling over my cheeks again, I'd barely managed to keep from breaking until my walk home. That had been the first time that I'd ever fought back and it hadn't even done any good. I felt like I was just as bad as they were, getting pleasure from another's pain. But I didn't regret it. If he even _thought_ about Bianca or Maria again I would beat him so relentlessly that he wouldn't even be recognizable as a human being after I was done._ _ _ _

____I didn't even try and stop crying as I stalked up Will's front porch. I wasn't entirely sure why I was doing it, why I wasn't just going home and crying myself to sleep. I had never wanted to be comforted in the past, but some tiny part of me just wanted to see him smile or hear his voice. I knew that he would be able to make me feel better._ _ _ _

____I wasn't sure what I would have done if Will's mom or dad had opened the door, but by some amazing stroke of luck, Will's perpetually sunny expression met me as it swung inwards. The smile vanished so quickly I was sure I had imagined it._ _ _ _

____"Nico?" he gasped like he couldn't believe it was me falling apart on his doorstep. I opened my mouth and only managed to let out a choked sob._ _ _ _

____"Come in," he rushed, taking a step back. I pushed past him, not even protesting as he pulled my bag gently off of my back and set it on the ground, then guided me over to the couch. His strong fingers kneaded my shoulders gently until my sobs had calmed to hiccups and sniffles._ _ _ _

____"What happened?" he murmured gently. His voice was so different from Percy's. His breath stirring my hair didn't repulse me, his tone was soothing and warm instead of goading._ _ _ _

____I shook my head, unable to bring myself to turn and face him. I knew I looked weak, my bottom lip trembling, my hair damp and clinging to my face, my eyes red and swollen from the tears that were still gathering at my chin and leaking down my neck and dripping all over Will's couch._ _ _ _

____His fingers brushed over my neck, "Do you not want to talk about it?" he asked, never wanting to pressure me into doing something that would make me the slightest bit uncomfortable._ _ _ _

____I nodded very slightly and Will didn't say anything else. We sat there for several more minutes, Will massaging my back comfortingly. I didn't even flinch when his fingers met old bruises, I just leaned heavily against the back of his couch, fighting heavy eyelids until I finally mustered the courage to turn around._ _ _ _

____Will studied my facial expression, waiting for me to say something. He didn't question it when I moved a little closer and leaned my head against his shoulder, my arms wrapped protectively around myself. I let my eyelids fall closed as he draped one long arm around my shoulders, resting his head on top of mine. The position felt so natural and safe that I didn't even think about it._ _ _ _

____"You can sleep." Will told me quietly, "I'm right here if you need me."_ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____I woke up a while later, I wasn't sure how long I had been sleeping, but we were laying down now. Will was on his back with his head on a cushion, and I was wedged on my side between him and the couch, my head was on top of his chest, and his breaths were still slow and even._ _ _ _

____I closed my eyes again, it was strangely calming the way his chest rose and fell beneath me to the same steady pace as his breaths; I was warm and safe. I wasn't sure how long I laid there until Will stirred. His eyes drifted open and I was reminded of clouds parting to reveal perfect skies._ _ _ _

____"Hey, Neeks," he said sleepily, flicking a strand of hair out of my face with a smile._ _ _ _

____"Hey," I replied, there was a moment of silence before I added, "Thanks, by the way."  
Will shook his head, "Don't thank me. It makes it sound like a task, and I'm doing this because I want to."_ _ _ _

____I nodded, although I didn't quite understand. "Okay."_ _ _ _

____Will curled a strand of my hair around his index finger, a worried expression forming on his face. "So, what happened earlier?" he coaxed.  
_A little birdy told me your mommy and sister died in a fire and it was_ all your fault._ _ _ _

____I swallowed, looking away from him. "I just. . ." I struggled to think up a lie, but the throbbing in my knuckles kept bringing back Percy's sneering face and stinging words. For once my mind was failing to weave some sort of convincing half-truth. I curled my fingers into a careful fist, tucking my hand out of sight. "I don't want to talk about it." I finally managed._ _ _ _

____Will tugged lightly on the strand of hair he was holding hostage and then set it free. It immediately fell across my left eye. I didn't bother to brush it away. "You sure?" he asked in a concerned tone._ _ _ _

____I nodded, pushing myself up off of his chest, "Positive."_ _ _ _

____Will watched silently as I settled my back against the opposite end of the couch, my feet tucked into the space where my body had been. I pulled out my phone, opening the text I had been expecting from my parents asking where I was._ _ _ _

_____I went to Will's after school. I forgot to tell you, sorry._ _ _ _ _

____"A text from your mom?"_ _ _ _

____I looked up at him, snapping my phone shut. "Yeah."_ _ _ _

____Will nodded, smiling. "I got one too."_ _ _ _

____My eyebrows drew together. "What?"_ _ _ _

____He just nodded, "Your mom asked for my number before I left on Thursday and then she gave me yours."_ _ _ _

____Oh. I nodded in return, averting my eyes and stifling the urge to pull my knees up into my chest, something I did when I felt exposed, uncomfortable, or unsure. Right now it was the last two options. I knew Will was still worried about me, and why wouldn't he be, when I had showed up on his porch a sobbing mess and refused to tell him anything about it? I didn't want him to know about the bullying, he'd just tell me that I had to tell the principal or my parents about it, but that would only make it worse once they knew I'd tattled on them. Plus, why should I want to stop it when I so obviously deserved it?_ _ _ _

____I looked back at Will, who I knew was fighting to keep from asking if I was okay again. He was smart, he already knew that I'd never tell him the truth if I wasn't. We stared at eachother for another couple of seconds, neither of us knew what to say, and then my phone buzzed in my hand, this time the text was from my dad. A single word: _gelato.__ _ _ _

____A smile spread across my face, and I answered the question I knew Will was about to ask without looking up. "It was my dad. We're going out for gelato, I'm going to ask if you can come."_ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Apparently my dad had found an ice cream shop that sold gelato not too far away, called CiCi's. He greeted Will warmly, gripping his hand with both of his massive ones and insisting that he call him Hades instead of Mr. di Angelo. Hazel wasn't as welcoming, saying "Hi." distractedly when my dad introduced her and loudly popping her gum. She reminded me a lot of a stereotypical popular girl right then. I bet she acted like one at her stupid, fancy private school._ _ _ _

____-  
My father pulled up in front of the shop, it was tucked in between a pink, frilly boutique and an old-looking music store with vintage records in the window. Will and I agreed that we should check it out sometime._ _ _ _

____The ice cream shop itself looked like it had been taken directly out of one of those fifties movies where everything is red, black, and white and waiters and waitresses deliver your food on roller skates. Minus the roller blades, since you ordered and picked up your food at the counter._ _ _ _

____We stood back away from the counter while we decided what we wanted. Hades, I noticed, didn't get his usual pistachio (or _pistacchio_ in Italian) gelato, but instead ordered stracciatella, in memory of my mom._ _ _ _

____I followed his lead and stuck with vanilla, but got Bianca's favorite toppings: chocolate and caramel sauce with cookie mixed in._ _ _ _

____Will got pistachio on my father's word that it was the single best flavor of _gelato._ When Will asked why he wasn't getting it, then, Hades replied smoothly that it was always good to try something new, and then dropped a wink at me that Will didn't see._ _ _ _

____Hazel had opted to stay home and Marie decided that she just wanted a sandwich and ordered a BLT._ _ _ _

____We got our food and sat down at one of the tables outside, Will took one bite of his _gelato_ and his eyes widened immediately._ _ _ _

____"I'm going to move to Italy just for the food," he proclaimed, digging out another spoonful. My father and I grinned at each other._ _ _ _

____"Italy does everything better," Hades affirmed. Will agreed without hesitation and my dad's grin grew even bigger, "I like this one," he said, smiling at Will, who laughed and high-fived him._ _ _ _

____It was strange how my life was such a roller coaster. How in the same day I could feel like the whole world was against me and then like everything had suddenly fallen into place. This was one of those perfectly aligned moments. I knew it couldn't last, but I wasn't going to let that get to me.  
Too soon, we were driving home, but it was only five o'clock and Marie invited Will over for dinner at six._ _ _ _

____Will crouched in front of my CD case, looking over its contents. "I haven't heard of a single one of these bands. . ." he muttered._ _ _ _

____"You probably know a few," I countered, walking over._ _ _ _

____He nodded, "Well, yeah. I know a couple."_ _ _ _

____I reached over his shoulder to pull out a CD and he caught my wrist, "Your hand!" he exclaimed._ _ _ _

____I cursed myself internally, I'd managed to keep my bruised knuckles hidden up until now. "It's just a little bruise." I scoffed._ _ _ _

____"That's the same thing you said on Friday." he shot back, releasing my hand and turning to face me, "Nico, if something is going on at school--"_ _ _ _

____"I just got in a little fight. He pissed me off, I threw a punch, he kicked me, the hall monitor stopped us. That's it." I left out the part about Frank holding me down, that would just complicate things even more. I felt lame telling the story, craning my neck to look up at Will, who seemed doubtful._ _ _ _

____"What did he say to make you mad?" Will pressed._ _ _ _

____I knew he wasn't trying to be nosy, Will wasn't that type of person, he was just concerned for me. The only problem was that I didn't want him to worry about me, I was sure he had enough problems without worrying about mine._ _ _ _

____"He's a jerk to everyone, Will," I said softly. "You don't have to worry about it, I can take care of myself."_ _ _ _

____His brow crinkled, "I just want to--" But he was cut off by Marie calling up the stairs that I needed to give my dog food and water and make sure I took her on a long walk to get all of her energy out. I had no doubt that he would bring up the subject again when we were walking, but at least I had time to collect my thoughts before then._ _ _ _

____I didn't bother with the leash as we headed out, Mrs. O’Leary didn’t really need it. I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jacket, it wasn't cold outside, but I felt the need to have a way of keeping my knuckles out of view, like that would keep Will from asking about it again. We walked in silence for a bit, watching as Mrs. O'Leary loped ahead to little to sniff things and then wander back to us, like she was scouting for danger. Maybe she was. I wondered vaguely if she'd attack Percy if I brought her to school with me, the thought brought a tiny smile to my face, even though I knew her breed was unlikely to attack someone outright. But if Percy attacked me first. . ._ _ _ _

____"What are you smiling about? Thinking about a special someone?" Will teased, wiggling his eyebrows._ _ _ _

____I laughed, it was short and dim, just like my smiles. Just like me, actually. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at my own stupid joke. I was my own best friend, but also my worst enemy._ _ _ _

____"No," I answered, smiling ruefully. "I don't have a girlfriend."_ _ _ _

____Will nodded, looking away from me. I could've sworn he was frowning, but I dismissed the idea. Will didn't frown without reason, he had a default happy face. The exact opposite of me. I tended to either look pissed off or sad when I wasn't thinking about my expression._ _ _ _

____"Will," I said after our footsteps had tapped out enough seconds of wordlessness._ _ _ _

____He turned his gaze away from the flowers of some nameless person's garden to look at me. He wasn't smiling for once, but he seemed peaceful, his eyes were a gentle blue. "Yeah?"_ _ _ _

____"I know you're still worried about the whole. . . thing, but you really don't have to be. I promise I'll come to you if I need your help with anything, and I'll tell you everything I have to." I chose my words carefully, I didn't like breaking a promise._ _ _ _

____Will fixed me with a serious expression, his eyes boring holes into my skull. "Do you swear it?"_ _ _ _

____I nodded, not letting my gaze waver even slightly from his, "Yes."_ _ _ _

____He nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. Up ahead, Mrs. O'Leary barked, somehow, her 'voice' sounded different than usual. We both snapped our heads in her direction, she was standing rigid, her back was to us, but I imagined that her teeth were bared._ _ _ _

____Up ahead, I could see the silhouette of someone. They were standing far enough away from us and any lampposts that I couldn't make out their face, but I would know those huge shoulders and muscled arms anywhere. It was Frank Zhang. His body language told me that he was just as shocked as I was and his head was tilted downwards, staring at my huge, angry dog._ _ _ _

____My guess was that she had scented him on me when I had come home mangled and upset before now, but I didn't know if Newfoundlands generally had good noses. I did, however, know that they were extremely good judges of character and were only hostile to people who they thought posed a threat._ _ _ _

____Will, on the other hand, had no idea who the stranger was and took an apprehensive step forward. "Hello?" He sounded a lot more confident than I felt._ _ _ _

____Frank looked up at us, but he stayed silent. Perhaps he couldn't think of anything to say to the person he had helped drag down for so long. If it was any of my other attackers, they would have probably spat some snarky comment at me and I would have yelled at Mrs. O'Leary to attack them, or it would have taken a _lot_ more restraint not to, but Frank had never done anything to me willingly. I still hated him for not stopping them, though, for only standing back until one of the others called him forward. I can't deny that that the darker side of me was snarling silently along with Mrs. O'Leary, wanting her to lunge forward and tear him apart._ _ _ _

____"Frank." My voice sounded like a pin dropping in a deathly silent room. My tongue clicked hollowly on the "K", a tiny tink that felt like a bomb dropping._ _ _ _

____Will looked over at me in suprise, "You know him?"_ _ _ _

____I nodded without taking my eyes off of the Canadian. I still didn't understand why he hung out with Percy and the others._ _ _ _

____I clucked my tongue softly and Mrs. O'Leary cocked her head slightly, acknowledging my signal but unwilling to take her small, intelligent eyes off of Frank. "Come here, girl." My voice was quiet and slow._ _ _ _

____There was a moment where her muscles tensed under her two layers of fur, where I was sure she was going to ignore me and leap at Frank. Instead, she let out a barely audible warning growl and backed up slowly until her hindquarters brushed against my thighs and stomach. I was suddenly very aware that she could have probably killed Frank if he gave her a reason to, and I shuddered at the thought of her soft brown eyes filled with malice and her muzzle dripping with blood._ _ _ _

____"Nico?" Frank was obviously even more shocked than he had been before. He'd been expecting punishment for his involvement. I just shook my head, telling him with my eyes that I wouldn't stoop to their level. Not unless I had to._ _ _ _

____He took a step back, I wanted to see the expression on his face right then. To know what it looked like to finally be in control, but then he turned and bolted. The whole thing was like a scene from a movie, the tension, the perfectly placed shadows, the eerie silence, broken by his feet thundering off into the distance._ _ _ _

____I drew in a shaky breath._ _ _ _

____"Nico, who was that?" His tone said that he already had a pretty good idea._ _ _ _

____I didn't answer. Mrs. O'Leary stuck close to my side the whole way home, her flank constantly brushing against my side. She was on full alert. Will drifted along behind us, weary and confused. Probably more than a little concerned, now more than ever._ _ _ _

____I cursed Frank for showing up when he was around. I couldn't possibly be mad at Mrs. O'Leary for protecting me, even though if she hadn't been so hostile things might have gone a lot smoother. Instead, I was grateful to know that she was that loyal to me. That she would put herself between me and a kid who dwarfed everyone, even her._ _ _ _

____I jogged up my front steps, feeling numb. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Will spun me around to face him. "What happened back there?"_ _ _ _

____I held his gaze for a few moments before I spoke. "Frank and I have a bit of a rocky history and Mrs. O'Leary has a knack for sniffing out _cazzi."__ _ _ _

____I started turning around but Will held me in place with one hand on my shoulder. "You said you'd tell me everything."_ _ _ _

____I shook my head, "I said I'd tell you everything _I had to,"_ I clarified, "There's no reason for you to know anything about Frank other than the fact that we don't get along very well."_ _ _ _

____Will's expression darkened. "What does that mean, you 'don't get along very well?'"_ _ _ _

____"It's complicated," I said steadily. "Look, Will. There's no reason for you to worry. I know I already said this, but I can take care of myself. There's nothing going on that I can't handle or that you have to be worried about. Okay?"_ _ _ _

____Will hesitated, his jaw clenched tight and his breath ruffling the hair hanging over my forehead, and then he stepped back abruptly. "Okay."_ _ _ _

____My parents didn't seem to notice that Will was a lot quieter than usual all through dinner, or that he wasn't smiling as much as he normally did and that he mostly just pushed his food around on his plate. I did. I also noticed that he never even attempted to fake a smile. I did that too._ _ _ _

____Will left right after we ate. I tried to assure him one last time that everything was okay, but his gaze was still troubled as he said his goodbyes and then slipped out the door. Now it was my turn to worry about _him.__ _ _ _

____I didn't get much sleep that night and Mrs. O'Leary slept a lot closer than usual, her back pressed firmly against my side even though the danger had passed hours ago. Her presence was comforting and I ran my fingers through her thick, coarse coat and whispered to her until my alarm clock started screaming at me to crawl out of bed even though my mind and body felt like they were being operated by rusty parts that weighed a hundred tons._ _ _ _

____The very thought of going to school and sitting through classes, worrying about four certain people who would be lurking in different rooms throughout the building or maybe even different desks in the room, of etching symbols onto sheets of dead trees for hours and getting beaten somewhere in between. . . All of it seemed utterly impossible right then. So I did it anyway._ _ _ _

____I didn't go to Will afterwards, like I so desperately wanted to, not right away, anyway. First, I snuck through my front door and into the bathroom, where I treated my injuries and then covered them carefully with makeup. Then I went into my room and played music to calm myself down. I sobbed into Mrs. O'Leary's fur, the tears rolled off of her easily. I wished that my emotions would roll off of myself like that. She curled herself around me protectively, and after I laid there for a while, feeling like a complete mess, I went into the bathroom again and took a cold shower, telling myself that I could just wash away all of my problems. Only then did I go to Will's, with an easy smile I had practiced in the mirror on my face and my makeup meticulously reapplied around it._ _ _ _

____I was determined to make Will believe that I was fine. No more dragging him farther into my issues. I didn't want to see him without his smile for so long ever again. I never wanted him to think he had to find a way to put me back together when I was already so impossibly broken. He didn't need that kind of a burden._ _ _ _

____I knocked on his door and waited until it was pulled open. My brow furrowed, no one was standing there._ _ _ _

____"Nico!"_ _ _ _

____My eyes dropped down and I smiled. Kit barreled into my legs, tackling me in a weird sort of hug and making me stumble backwards. "Hey, Kit."_ _ _ _

____She stepped back, releasing my legs and looking up at me with her big, green eyes. She looked a lot like her mother, but she had her father's nose and smile, I recognized them from Will's face. "Are you looking for Bear?"_ _ _ _

____I nodded, crouching down so that I was eye-level with her. "Yeah, where is he?"_ _ _ _

____"In his room. I'm not al-oed to bother him when he's playing," she stated, closing the door behind me._ _ _ _

____"Oh," I said, glancing up towards the stairs, where the sound of Will strumming his guitar could be heard wafting down and filling the house with its grace. "Could you let him know that I was here?"_ _ _ _

____She shook her head and grabbed my hand, attempting to pull me towards the stairs."He wants to see you."_ _ _ _

____I allowed her to take me up to Will's door, where she knocked and called loudly that I was there. Will's playing immediately ceased and then he was at the door, his expression clouded. His mouth bent into a smile when he saw the smile on my own face, just like I had hoped it would. Guilt gnawed at my chest for deceiving him, but I pushed it away. I was only doing what had to be done._ _ _ _

____Kit pranced away happily as Will let me into his room. "Hey, Neeks."_ _ _ _

____"Hey," I said, looking around. Will had arranged the furniture in his room and there was only a few boxes laying around, waiting to be unpacked. His bed was in the right corner across from the door, his guitar sat on top of it next to its open case, and a few shelves had been put up above it, the remaining ones were leaning against his bed, a drill and some screws scattered around them. His desk was pushed against the wall underneath a large window that had grey curtains pushed far to either side, allowing sunlight to bask the room in its glow. Several notebooks and pencils were scattered on the desk's surface, the "Photography" box was positioned at the top of the desk next to various other items, its lid slightly askew. His midnight-blue walls didn't hold nearly as many posters as mine, but enough that you could discern his distinct taste in music, movies, TV shows, and books. The double doors of his closet-- which were to the left of his bed-- were filled with a vast array of photographs-- the ones he didn't hold close to his heart, I assumed. I promised myself I'd look at them all closer later._ _ _ _

____"So, you finally got around to unpacking?" I asked teasingly._ _ _ _

____Will nodded, looking around with amusement glittering in his eyes. "Yeah. Your rude commentary motivated me."_ _ _ _

____I rolled my eyes, "It was truthful commentary," I corrected him, sitting down on his bed._ _ _ _

____"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Neeks." He sat down next to me after carefully lifting his guitar into its case and sliding it under the bed. "So, why are you here?"_ _ _ _

____I raised my eyebrows, "Do I need a reason to visit a friend?" _My only friend.__ _ _ _

____Will shrugged, "I guess not."_ _ _ _

____I hesitated a moment before I spoke, "I guess you're still wondering about Frank?"_ _ _ _

____Will glanced over at me and then nodded cautiously, "Yeah, actually."_ _ _ _

____I looked down at my black Vans, clicking the toes together. "Well, Frank bullied me at the beginning of the year. . ." Will stiffened beside me and I rushed forward before he could say anything. "But he doesn't anymore. . . Not since he made the mistake of doing it when Mrs. O'Leary was around," I said, using the story I'd concocted in the shower. "She didn't do anything to him, just scared him witless and chased him off, but it taught him a lesson." My heart felt heavy in my chest. _Liar.__ _ _ _

____"So he's not doing it anymore?" Will asked, something like hope in his voice, but also a tiny twinge of concern._ _ _ _

____I looked back up at him and nodded, looking him straight in the eye. I was way too good at seeming honest when I was far from it._ _ _ _

____"What about this?" he said softly, touching the place on my chin where it was still trying to heal, gently so he wouldn't hurt me._ _ _ _

____"I already told you, I fell into the shallow end of the pool." I told him. "Believe me, there's nothing going on that you need to know about."_ _ _ _

____Will searched my face for a couple of seconds, like he could find the lies hidden there. I knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able to. "Okay." he said, "But just remember that you can always come to me if you need help. I'm more than happy to listen to anything you have to say."_ _ _ _

____A small part of me ached to tell him. To wipe the makeup off and spill everything to him, to let him carry a part of my burden and help me dig my way out of the hole that I'd dug in the first place, but that wasn't fair. It was my burden and my responsibility to deal with it, not Will's. "I know," I responded._ _ _ _

____Will smiled, it was warm and easy and one hundred percent real. I didn't deserve to have him in my life. "Good."_ _ _ _

____I slipped off of his bed and walked over to his closet. The scenes he'd captured were magnificent. Little moments of time that people took for granted, things I would have never noticed. Temporary messages left in sidewalk chalk that were unbelievably heart-breaking. The shadow of two trees that formed a heart in a place where sunlight broke through branches. Two people holding hands, their shadows were entwined, the metaphorical beauty of it was obvious. A kitten and a puppy cuddling, below it was a picture of an older dog and cat fighting. Maybe a representation of the loss of innocence, of the kindness people have only when they're young._ _ _ _

____I traced my fingers over the photos, they were all gorgeous. "Wow." I whispered to Will, who had come to stand at my shoulder._ _ _ _

____I could hear him smiling proudly, "Thanks."_ _ _ _

____I turned around and Will took a step back to give me space. "When did you start taking pictures?"_ _ _ _

____"Last summer," Will said. There was something in his voice that told me there was more to it. A story that meant a lot to him, but I didn't ask._ _ _ _

____I just looked at him in awe, "And you're already this good?"_ _ _ _

____He smiled as if remembering something pleasant. "I had an amazing teacher."_ _ _ _

____I nodded, "They must have been amazing."_ _ _ _

____Will chuckled softly, turning away from me. "They were."_ _ _ _

____"Will," I said quietly._ _ _ _

____"Hm?" He was busy closing his notebooks and putting them carefully in a drawer._ _ _ _

____I watched the back of his head, teetering on the edge of something I couldn't quite put a name to. I wanted to say something, but the words weren't forming in my head, it was the strangest sensation. "Would you mind if I drew you sometime?" I asked randomly._ _ _ _

____He turned around, grinning widely with all of his teeth and pushing hair out of his face. "Sure, why not? But just so you know, I'm not doing any naked poses."_ _ _ _

____I laughed, rolling my eyes at him, and he laughed along with me. When I was with Will, I realized, I didn't have to pretend to be happy. And it felt great._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I should add translations for the Italian (there's more later). What do you guys think? And what do you think would be the best way to translate it on here if I did? Also, if the Italian is incorrect (which it probably is because I know next to nothing about the language), please tell me the correct translation! Thank you all!


	5. Going-To-A-Funeral Attire

I never quite grasped just how many bruises and scrapes and cuts covered my body. I guess it should have been a no-brainer since I'd been being pummeled every day for two years and I'd always been so careful to keep my injuries out of sight, because, in the back of my mind, I knew they wouldn't appear normal to anyone. . . but I tried so hard to tell myself that they were insignificant that I had convinced myself that there really weren't that many. I'd also never looked at them all together, but now, standing in front of my full-length mirror in nothing but boxer shorts, I was painfully aware of each and every one.

There were twenty bruises on my stomach and chest alone and a scar from a time when I had fallen against a short fence. I'd had to walk all the way back home to change my ripped t-shirt and clean the cut.

The palms of my hands were scarred from hitting the pavement so many times before. I was a blank canvas that had been painted to showcase everyone else's pain and anger and hide my own.

I wrapped my arms around my torso, aware that I was shaking in some corner of my mind, but I was more focused on how ugly my flesh looked. How scrawny I was. I turned away from the mirror, hugging myself even tighter and willing my eyes to hold the tears in.

I walked over to my bed and sat down, pulling my art supplies towards me. I took a deep breath and picked up a pencil. It wasn't hard to recall my tormentors' faces, and it was even easier to depict them with just as many bruises as they had inflicted on me. By the time I was done, their eyes were filled with all of the sadness and hurt that I kept bottled inside and angry welts stood out against their skin. Blood dripped from mouths and noses. Perpetual frowns bent their mouths.

I stared at the picture, and I didn't get any satisfaction from it. No one deserved that. A sob ripped loose from my throat as I tore the paper to shreds. No one deserved it but me. _No one deserved it but me._ No one.

I wanted to scream and break apart everything in my room. I wanted to tear my hair and rip my clothes and bloody my knuckles just to get all of my anger out. But that wouldn't solve anything. In the end, I would just be even more miserable than I was before and I'd have to answer questions and choke up lies and wonder why I had to screw up again. My dad would probably be disgusted.

There was an emptiness in my chest and a force kicking around in my stomach, demanding that I do _something,_ anything at all. I had no idea what I wanted. I couldn't figure out why I felt so hollow. For once in my life I _wanted_ to cry, I wanted to sob and shake until I was completely exhausted and then fall asleep, but my eyes had dried up even though my heart kept welling up. I didn't want to sit there staring at my alarm clock, watching as the minutes ticked by, counting the exact amount of sleep I was losing, but I didn't know what else to do. It was the most frustrating thing in the world and it made me realize that I didn't just not know what to do, but there was nothing I could do.

I laid back down, resigning myself to spending the rest of my high school years miserable.

**-**

I walked into third period, which was art, having just escaped an infuriating conversation with Leo Valdez, who didn't seem to get that I wanted nothing to do with him. This was one of the only classes I would have enjoyed. . . if it wouldn't have been the first of the two classes I'd had with Percy Jackson. The day had been suprisingly uneventful and it was my guess that Percy was going to solve that problem for me.

I slumped down into my seat behind one of the four long black tables in the room, the dark circles beneath my eyes showcasing the four total hours of sleep I'd gotten, but that wasn't important; Jackson hadn't arrived yet. I watched the door, waiting for him to walk in with his cocky smile and gang of fans, but when the bell rang, he still hadn't made an appearance.

Percy might have been an egotistical s _tronzo_ that thought he was some sort of rebel, but he never got caught (with the exception of yesterday) and he was never late. My guess was that his parents thought he was a perfect angel and he wanted to keep it that way. I noticed his band of friends whispering to each other conspiratorially at the table in front of mine and strained my ears to hear what they were saying.

". . .flu."

"Oh, that _sucks._ I hope he gets better soon--"

I stopped paying attention at that point. He wasn't here? I felt a smile pulling its way over my face, he had always been the one who caused the most damage. I hoped he was miserable. That was sick and twisted and I didn't really care. My smile grew even more as it occurred to me that he might not be here for the rest of the week, or at least for a couple of days.

I worked happily through the class, satisfied by the end with my efforts on our new project. Mr. Ptah even stopped by to offer me praise and suggestions, my art had always been hampered by my nagging fear and nervousness, now with my nemesis gone it was much easier to focus and pour my soul into my work.

I left that class feeling upbeat and positive for the first time since I'd started it. Until I remembered that Jackson's three other cronies were still roaming the halls, probably eager to fill in for him.

I went through the rest of the day with anxiety bubbling just below the surface. I jumped every time I heard a loud noise or someone bumped into me into the hallways. It completely unsettled me when Jason and Octavian simply walked past me without even acknowledging my presence. I was certain they were lulling me into a false sense of security, so every time I saw them without incident, my defensive walls grew even higher. By the time I was walking home, they were a thousand-foot-long soaring skyscraper that dwarfed the Great Wall of China.

My nerves didn't ebb even as I neared my street, glancing around for any signs of someone lurking behind bushes or a fence. I veered out into the middle of the road, knowing it would make it harder to take me by surprise if I was out in the open.

I smiled as I made the turn, my shoulders finally relaxing slightly. Somewhere, I was aware that I had just made it through the first school day in two years where I hadn't been targeted at all, but my brain was still trying to wrap itself around the fact, so I focused instead on the scene before me: Will was out front with Kit, laughing as they washed Apollo's cherry red Maserati, doing more splashing and yelling (more like squealing on Kit's part) than anything else.

The car was their father's pride and joy, he'd saved up for it since college, putting away a little each week. Due to several emergencies that had forced them to break into his savings, he'd only reached his goal the previous year, and had used the money to go to a car dealership and browse through some of their more pricey options.

Will caught sight of me walking towards them across their lawn and opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off as a jet of water hit him in the side of his face. He spun around, feigning anger and chased after Kit, who ran away from him, screeching and still holding the hose-- it had one of those attachments where you could change its different settings. An amused smile tugged at my lips as Will swept her up, yelling something about him being a monster who was going to eat her.

"UNLESS!" Will yelled, setting her down, he bent and whispered the rest in her ear while she giggled. Will pulled back and gave her a few more instructions, gesturing with his hands, and then he bolted up, spinning around, _"GO!"_ He yelled, charging towards me, now holding the hose. Instead of following after him, Kit ran off towards the car.

I threw off my backpack and turned to run in the opposite direction. A stream of water hit me in the back of my head and Will's laugh swept over me, making a small laugh burble up from my throat. I glanced behind me, and tried to pick up the pace once I saw how fast Will was closing in. My back was sopping wet in under a minute.

Suddenly, a force crashed into me and I yelped as I flew towards the ground with Will on top of me, he put his arms out and caught us both so he wouldn't hurt me, and pinned me down as Kit ran over, holding a sopping wet sponge. Will leaned away from me, still holding me in place, and she smashed it in her hands, causing water to splash over me.

I pushed against Will's chest, glaring up at him at him and sputtering. He just laughed, I felt it rumbling in his chest and echoing through mine, triggering the smile that pulled its way onto my face. Will pushed himself off of me, sweeping wet hair out of his eyes, and I sat up, immediately grabbing the hose and pulling the trigger. Water hit his already sopping wet face, making him sputter and duck.

I laughed, a real laugh that filled my chest with complete joy and made me tip my head backward. Today had been the best day I'd had in so long, and the hilarious expression on Will's face brought it all back to the surface, like I was a can of soda that someone had shaken up before opening, and all of the little bubbles of carbonation were my memories; the things that decided whether the explosion would be good or bad.

Will stood and offered me his hand, grinning at me and laughing. I gripped it, prepping like I was getting ready to use his weight to pull me up, but instead used the leverage to yank him down to the ground. He fell with a surprised yelp, landing next to me, and I stood up, "Payback." I said, smirking as I walked away.

Will wasn't going down without a fight, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me off balance, causing me to pitch forward into the grass. I hit the earth with an _'Oof!'_ and rolled over quickly, still disoriented. Will was standing over me, a triumphant grin on his face (Kit was cheering loudly). "Do you surrender?"

I sighed defeatedly, "Yeah."

Will stuck his hand out again, "Don't even think about trying anything."

I laughed as he helped me to my feet and we spent the next half hour joking around and finishing up Apollo's car. By the time we were done I was thoroughly soaked and had soap suds spattered over various parts of my body. Will, for one, had the stuff coating most of his hair, courtesy of me.

"Come on." Will said, laughing and gesturing for me to come inside.

"Oh, I should probably change first and tell my mo-- pare-- oh, actually, my dad's spending the day with Marie, so they said it's okay for me to do whatever. But I should still change," I rushed, flushing.

Will shook his head, earning a puzzled glance from me. "You can just borrow some of my old clothes."

 _Because your current ones wouldn't fit me._ I silently stated what was very obvious, blushing. "Uh, y-yeah. Okay, thanks." I stuttered, a little thrown by the gesture.

I followed him through the house and into his room, where he tossed me a bright orange t-shirt and shorts after asking if I wanted regular clothes or something more comfortable, like sweats or pajamas. I looked at him doubtfully, clutching the clothing in my hands.

Will rolled his eyes, _"Fiiiine."_ He pulled out a plaid shirt that was mainly black and some dark blue skinny jeans. "That's the closest thing I have to your usual 'going-to-a-funeral' attire."

I sniffed, trading one pile of clothes for the other, "I put the 'fun' in 'funeral.'"

Will laughed heartily, apparently never having heard the joke. "Oh, and--" he held out a pair of boxers, "--you might need these."

I looked at them doubtfully, blood rushing into my face. _No way am I wearing my friend's underwear. . . Or anyone else's underwear, other than my own._

"Oh, come on." he jested, laughing at me. "They're clean."

He sat there, holding out the garment silently, and then he let out a short bark of laughter, "You're not going to suffer through wearing wet underwear, are you?"

I hesitated for a few seconds while he looked at me, barely containing his mirth, and then I snatched them out of his hands, sticking my tongue out at him, and stomped out of his room, only to come back a few seconds later with an embarrassed smile. "Where's your bathroom?"

**-**

Examining myself in Will's mirror, I decided that I at least looked decent. The shirt was a little big, as the sleeves fell just past my fingertips, and the hem reached a few inches past my hips. I rolled the sleeves up and attempted to tuck the shirt in, but ultimately decided that it looked better loose, and pulled it back out. The pants fit perfectly in the hips, but were a little loose in the legs and were way too long, this wasn't much of a problem, though, since most of my jeans had to be bunched up at the bottom as well, and it wasn't going to kill me not to have my pants sticking to my legs like they were a second skin.

  
Once I'd gotten the soap out of my hair, I headed back to Will's room, combing through the black mass distractedly with my fingers and clutching my wet clothes in my other hand. He had changed and was sprawled out across his bed when I walked in. He turned his head to the side to look at me, grinning before he sat up and draped his long legs over the side in one fluid motion.

I leaned against the doorframe, smiling back at him shyly and folding my arms across my chest to compensate for my awkwardness.

"So, do you wanna stay here, or we could go somewhere. . .?" he asked, smiling lopsidedly at me. "But we'd have to walk, there's no way in Hell my parents are letting me drive their cars. Especially not my dad."

I snorted, "Where do you want to go?"

"We could walk over to that music store we saw." he suggested, standing up.

I nodded in agreement, smiling. "The one by CiCi's?"

"Yeah." He took my wet clothes from me and walked across the room to set them on his desk. "Let's go."

**-**

The music store was my definition of paradise.

It opened up into a small room that had so much cool music memorabilia from every genre imaginable that I couldn't even tell if the walls had any paint on them. On the wall across from the main door, a college-aged girl with long, wavy hair that was dyed deep purple and styled in a side cut, sat behind the counter, wearing an obscene amount of eyeliner and a wardrobe that was an extreme _"_ _V_ _affanculo"_ to the majority of the world's population.

There were four doorways on either of the side walls, each of them was marked with a sign above the door, each advertising a different music genre: Rap, Rock, Pop, K-Pop, R&B, Country, and Classical.

The purple-haired girl looked up from her phone --which was plugged into a set of speakers on the counter, playing music from it-- in surprise as the door's bell rang, and nearly toppled her chair in her haste to stand up and greet us.

"Hey, welcome to Vinylust," she rushed, walking around the counter with a surprising amount of grace for someone who was wearing five-inch spiky heels, and brushing her short, poofy neon blue skirt off nervously. It would've looked cutesy and girly, but the bottom was ripped up and the edges were airbrushed a deep red. I guessed she'd done it herself. "Sorry, I don't get many customers, you guys can look around and just give me a holler if you need anything." She grinned at us both, "My name's Hollie, by the way."

Will nodded, "Thanks, Hollie." He looked like he was about to say more, but smiled apologetically at her and hurried to catch up to me as I made a beeline for the doorway marked "ROCK" in bold, spiky letters.

The room was small and had as many shelves crammed into it as possible while still leaving room to walk. They were labeled with different variations of rock from pop/rock to speed metal, and the highest parts of the walls that weren't displaying CDs and vinyl were dedicated to showcasing the same sort of stuff covering the walls in the entrance. A punk song from a band I didn't recognize was playing softly enough from the speakers stationed in a high corner that you couldn't hear it outside the room.

"You look like a kid in a candy store," Will joked.

I turned to find him smirking at me, laughter glittering just below the surface. I found myself wishing he'd just let it out so I could hear it for the millionth time that day.

"Can you blame me?" I asked, already turning to go search the shelves. "This place is awesome."

"Yeah, it is," Will agreed. "I'm gonna go check out the other rooms, I'll be back."

I made a sound to let him know I'd heard and continued rifling through CDs. After I'd picked out a few I thought looked interesting, I returned to the main room, Hollie wasn't positioned behind the counter, so I followed the loud bark of laughter that I instantly recognized as Will's, smiling.

Hollie was standing in front of him in the Country room-- which was (obviously) a Country version of the Rock room-- handing him a CD and grinning. Will took it from her and then smiled a greeting at me as he caught my eye. I made my way over and stood next to him, feeling myself blush as Hollie turned her attention to me.

"Hey, Neeks," Will said, smiling down at me as he leaned against the shelves.

I laughed, "There's no need to greet me like we haven't seen each other all day."

"Shut up." Will said, bumping his hip against mine and laughing.

Hollie grinned at us both, up close I could see that there was a pattern cut into the hair on the side of her head that was shaved, it was flowery and pretty, but somehow gothic too. "So, do you guys have everything you want?"

Will and I both nodded and followed her up to the counter, where I spilled my abundance of CDs onto the surface and then dug my wallet out of my-- well, Will's-- jeans. Will set his one CD down and started reaching into his pocket but I caught his arm, "I'll pay for it." I told him, handing Hollie a month's worth of allowance. It probably would've been more, but most of the CDs I'd picked up were second-hand.

Hollie took the money, a smile on her face, and then paused as Will caught her wrist, glaring at me, "No, you won't."

"I want to." I reassured him, fixing him with a look that said, _"_ _It's the least I can do when you've been so nice to me. Please."_

Will groaned, releasing the cashier's heavily braceleted wrist. _"Fine."_

I grinned proudly as Hollie put the money in the register, smiling and shaking her head. She started counting out the change, but I shook my head, "You can keep it."

"Oh, thanks." She looked surprised as she put the CDs in a bag and handed it to me, "You two have a nice day." She dropped a wink at Will, "Good luck."

He laughed at my confused expression, taking me by the arm and pulling me towards the door. "Thanks."

I dug his CD out of the bag, it was a Bon Iver album, _Blood Bank._ I tapped the cover, "Folk is a totally different genre from Country, right?"

Will nodded and let the door swing shut behind him, "Yeah, but they didn't have enough space so they had to put the Folk music in with the Country. Thanks for buying it for me, by the way."

I nodded, slipping it back into the bag. "Don't thank me. It makes it sound like a task, and I'm did it because I wanted to." I said, quoting what he'd said to me two days ago.

Will snorted, "Whatever you say, Neeks. Have you ever listened to Folk?"

I shook my head, "No, but I've heard of Bon Iver."

Will grinned at me, "Great."

**-**

I stood and watched as Will brought an older-looking CD player into the room and placed it on his desk so that he could plug into the outlet on the wall next to it. He unwrapped the Bon album and set the disc carefully into the machine and hit 'play'.

I turned to watch him walk past me and plop onto his bed, "Come over here."

I walked over there tentatively, my brows raised in question.

He smiled at me, "Sit down Neeks."

I perched myself on the edge of the bed, unsure of what he was going to do.

He laughed, "Closer." I moved a little farther onto the bed and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, I don't bite. . ." I inched over so my shoulder barely brushed his arm. ". . .usually."

I laughed a little and he let himself fall backward, "Lay down, Neeks."

I settled down on the mattress, turning my head to look at him, his eyelids fell shut. "Close your eyes."

"Wha--"

"Just do it, di Angelo."

I sighed and closed my eyes. After a few minutes of nothing, I opened them back up and looked at him again. He was smiling softly, his hands folded over his stomach, his long legs hanging over the side of the bed; he was completely relaxed and oblivious to me.

"What in the _D_ _iavolo_ are we doing?" I blurted.

Will laughed loudly at me, "Just _listen_ . . ."

We laid like that for about fifteen minutes until the first song started playing again and Will stood up and shut the player off. I waited until the bed sunk down beside me again before I opened my eyes. Will smiled down on me, pushing hair out of his face. "So, what did you think?"

"It's a _lot_ different than what I usually listen to," I amended.

Will laughed, laying down on his side, "No shit."

"Shut up." I told him, smiling. "I liked it though. It's really. . ." I searched for the right word, looking up at the ceiling and biting my lip thoughtfully. ". . . calming."

"Yeah." Will's warm breath on my cheek let me know his head was turned towards me. It felt like a rush of wintery air hit me when he looked away.

"Neeks?" he said a few seconds later.

I looked over at him to find that he was on his back now, looking straight up. "Yeah?"

"What color were you thinking of painting my ceiling?"

I surprised myself by laughing heartily. "Red. With your blood."

Will laughed and hit me lightly on the chest with the back of his hand, turning his head to look at me again. "You wouldn't. You'd miss me too much."

I rolled my eyes; I wasn't about to tell him how right he was. "I'd be glad you weren't here to annoy me anymore."

"Mm-hm." Will said disbelievingly, "You love me."

"Ha! Even 'like' is going too far, Solace. You might want to knock your ego down a few notches," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He poked me in the ribs and I let out a small, involuntary squeak. "Well, you told me that I'm one of the people you can tolerate, so I can at least say you don't hate me."

"Think what you want," I folded my arms over my chest and turned my eyes back to the ceiling.

"I can tell you're trying not to smile." Will said, his breath tickling my neck again, making it even harder not to laugh.

"Me? With my 'going-to-a-funeral' attire? Smiling?" I sniffed haughtily like such acts were below me.

He laughed, "Okay, I'm sorry about that."

"Are you?"

"Yes!"

"Are you _really?"_

"Yeah!"

I turned my face away from him, "I don't bel-- _DIO!"_ I attempted shove Will away as he tickled me, I was laughing and gasping for air. "WILL, STOP!"

"SAY YOU FORGIVE ME!" Will insisted, laughing as I attempted to kick him and jerk away from his hands.

"I--" I gasped between fits of laughter, "I forgive--" I squeaked and punched him in the chest as he hit on of my bruises, luckily Will didn't realize he'd hurt me, and laughed again, "What's that? I couldn't hear you."

"I FORGIVE YOU!" I yelled, rolling away from him as soon as he stopped. I glared at him with my back pressed against the wall and my knees pulled up to my chest. This time, it was purely to keep him from attacking my stomach again. "That was cruel and unnecessary."

Will rose his eyebrows, "What was cruel and unnecessary was you completely snubbing me."

"At least I didn't start _tickling you!"_

"You say that like it's some sort of crime." Will stated, grinning at me like I was a cute, grumpy puppy.

"It practically is!" I pointed out, "No one likes getting tickled."

Will put on a stubborn expression, "Then why were you laughing?"

"Oh, _believe me,_ I wouldn't have been if I'd had a choice." I told him, pulling a pillow towards me and glaring over the top of it.

"Really? Then what would you have been doing?" he asked slyly.

"I would've kicked your _culo_ so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow," I growled threateningly, my voice muffled by the pillowcase.

"Nico. You're hugging my pillow." Will pointed out, laughter dancing around his words.

"So? Just because I appear small and cuddly doesn't mean I couldn't do some serious damage if I wanted to," I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I'm sure you could, Neeks," he teased, stretching out on the bed.

"I know I could," I countered.

He made a little, "huh" sound, and then after a few seconds, he seemed to remember something. "Weren't you saying earlier that you wanted to draw me?"

I propped my chin on top of the pillow, "Yeah. We could go to my house, my stuff is there."

Will nodded, immediately climbing off the bed, "Then, across the street we go."

**-**

_"Per l'amor di Dio,_ Will! Hold still!" I exclaimed, "I can't get your face-shape right if the angle keeps changing!"

I was positioned on my bed, my back against the wall and my sketchpad propped against my knees, Will was sitting on my beanbag with his back pressed against my bookshelf, and getting distracted by pretty much everything.

Will winked at me, turning his head to do so. "I love it when you talk Italian to me."

"You're impossible." I grumbled, erasing most of my drawing.

"Don't get me wrong, Neeks. Your artist-speak is pretty sexy too." he said, smirking and flicking hair out of his face in a way that was extremely flirtatious.

"Why did I think this was a good idea?" I asked him, not really expecting an answer.

"Because you just couldn't resist capturing my beautiful face."

I regarded him dryly, "It might qualify as 'interesting' if you'd hold still."

He pouted, "I can't hold still for that long!"

"You held still for a whole fifteen minutes when we were listening to Bon Iver!" I protested, waving my art-supply-filled hands in the air in a way that was slightly overdramatic.

"I was laying down then! And we were listening to _Bon Iver,_ I was being entertained-- not that you're not entertaining, Neeks," he added hastily, batting his eyelashes at me.

I sighed, putting my face in my hands, "You are so weird."

"Why don't you just take my picture?" Will suggested, flopping down so his head hung off my bean bag and he was looking at me upside-down.

"My phone camera sucks and I don't have any other camera." I told him, erasing the rest of my drawing.

Will smiled knowingly, "Ah, but I do."

"But then we have to go get the film developed or whatever." I was just being difficult now, because, in some corner of my mind I found it extremely amusing seeing Will try and sit still while being fully conscious. I was pretty sure he had ADHD or something.

He held up a finger, "That's why I have Polaroid."

My eyes widened out of actual genuine concern, "But the film is super expensive, right? I don--"

"Neeks, it's fine." Will insisted, standing up, "Just bring your stuff and we can do everything at my house."

"Oh, okay," I relented, throwing everything into a backpack and following him out the door. "But I have to be home before 6:30, Hazel is having her mystery boyfriend over for dinner." I grumbled the last part, rolling my eyes.

Will rose an eyebrow at me over his shoulder, jogging down the stairs. "Well, it shouldn't be too bad. You might just like the guy."

I sighed, "Yeah, maybe, but if he's the type of person who likes _Hazel. . ._ Well, let's hope the whole 'opposites attract' thing is right."

Will opened the front door for me, and I walked through, thanking him. He shut the door behind him before he answered, "What's so bad about your sister anyway?"

 _"'What's so bad about my sister?'"_ I repeated, rolling my eyes again, "Well, for one, she treats me like I'm some rodent the cat dragged in. The cat being my dad. And then there's the fact that she's never once even tried to get to know me and my dad. I mean, I get that it's hard suddenly being introduced to someone and then having to live with them, I wasn't very happy about it at first either, but I realized that if it made my dad happy, it was okay. I got to know Marie and she's super cool, but Hazel wouldn't even say _one word_ to me."

Will shook his head, "Does she ever get to see her dad?"

I looked up at him in confusion, "Yeah, she spends a month with him every year."

Will nudged me softly with his elbow. "Maybe she misses him, Neeks. It must be hard having your parents get a divorce."

I looked away, a muscle in my cheek twitching. _At least she gets to see Pluto._ "Yeah, I know." I kicked a rock, "But she doesn't have to take it out on everyone else. I-- I don't get people that do that. . ." I shoved my hands into my pockets as we walked up his front porch.

Will took his hand off the knob and turned towards me to nudge my chin upwards with the tip of his finger, his eyes soft. "I know, Neeks, but just remember that there is _always_ a reason behind people's actions. If they say there isn't, they're either lying to you or themselves, or they're not looking deep enough." He dropped his hand and turned to let us into his house, meanwhile, my the gears in my head were working harder than ever.

I followed him into his room and then stared at the floor, not paying attention to what he was doing. I glanced up at him after a couple of moments, needing his opinion, "Will?"  
He looked up from where he was digging his camera out of the closet. "Yeah?"

I swallowed. _I said I'm not going to drag him into my issues and I won't._ "Never mind. . ." I looked away and then went to sit on his bed.

He stood up, the Polaroid dangling from his fingers, and his brow furrowed, "You sure?"

"Yeah." I said, trying to seem nonchalant, "So, where do you want to stand for the picture?"

What was I so worried about anyway? I already knew exactly why _they_ beat on me. I deserved it.

**-**

After we took the picture, Will sat behind me and watched me draw. For about two minutes, then he got up and turned on some music, and then went down to get himself a snack, then attempted to watch me for another minute and commented on how nice of a jawline he had, according to me, apparently, then he slowly slid off his bed headfirst while laughing, and then he sat behind me, his head pressed into my back, poking me relentlessly and complaining that he was bored.

I put my sketchpad down, sighing, _"Fine._ What do you want to do, Your Highness."

Will propped his head on my shoulder, laughing as I turned my head at the same moment and his nose bumped against mine. He fell back onto the bed and pulled his phone out (which was a heck of a lot nicer than mine, for the record), "Smile, Neeks."

I turned around completely, "For what?"

"I want proof that you can actually feel some form of happiness," he joked. "Just smile." I rolled my eyes but did as I was told.

There was a soft clicking noise and then Will looked at it and grinned, "Perfect."

I laughed and then dug my phone out of my own pocket as it buzzed. I sighed, "It's my mom. She said she wants me to come home now."

Will looked disappointed, "Okay. I'll walk with you, I guess."

I asked Marie if Will could stay for dinner so I would feel one hundred times less awkward, but she said that she didn't want to overwhelm "our special guest" since he was only expecting our family. That sounded like a load of _stronzate_ to me, but Will said that he understood and then wished me good luck before he left.

An hour later, I was lounging on the couch in the entryway, feeling extremely bored and annoyed as my mom fussed over Hazel and my dad told her how beautiful she looked and then informed me that I should go and comb my hair again because it was sticking up in the back. I dragged myself down the hall and halfheartedly combed my hair down, only to have it pop back up again. I groaned and instead just messed the rest of my hair up under the justification that it would at least be even that way. The doorbell rang right after that, which was a plus since then my parents couldn't scold me for it and demand that I fix it.

I left the bathroom and wandered up the hall, slightly curious to see who my stepsister's new boyfriend was. She'd never gotten serious enough with someone to bring them home, so I guess that was why our parents-- Marie especially-- were getting so excited about it.

I stopped in my tracks as soon as I turned the corner, my insides freezing over as Hazel's boyfriend caught my eye before I could turn and escape down the hall. Frank choked in the middle of his sentence, staring over my dad's shoulder at me in shock. Everyone turned to look at me, but I was too busy trying to accept that Frang Zhang was dating my sister to acknowledge them.

Hazel looked from me to Frank, "Do you two. . . know each other?"

I pulled my gaze off Frank with some difficulty, it was almost like I thought that he would suddenly freak out and attack me if I didn't watch him. "Yeah, you could say that."

Frank cleared his throat, "We go to the same school," he supplied, looking down at the ground. I wondered if he ever got vertigo just glancing at his feet.

"Oh, how nice!" My mom grinned widely, and I tuned out after that, following them numbly into the kitchen. There was absolutely no way I was going to sit through a dinner with Frank and act like we were best friends. My chair screeched its objections to the situation as I pulled it out and then plopped into it, sliding my phone stealthily out of my pocket to send a message to Will.

 _Look, I really need you to get me out of this dinner._ I slid my phone under my leg and tried to act like I was paying attention to what everyone was saying until it buzzed, which was during the prayer, when my hands were being held by my dad and my sister. Talk about great timing. As soon as my mom said, "Amen" I pulled my phone out under the table again, trying to be as discrete as possible.

_It can't be that bad, Neeks. It's just a dinner._

_That's not the problem. Apparently my sister's boyfriend is Frank._

_Ooooohh. . . hold on I'll call and say I need you to come over, I'll even start crying._

I had to force myself not to lugh, biting my lip, _Thanks._

I turned on my ringer and turned up the call volume so that everyone could, at least, hear that Will's voice was hysterical when he called, and then slipped my phone into my pocket. I didn't even have to fake being embarrassed when it rang loudly a couple of minutes later and everyone looked at me. I pulled it out and flipped it open, pressing it to my ear. My eyes widened in shock at how sincerely overwrought with emotion Will sounded as he blubbered about me needing to go over to his house right away. I flipped my phone shut and stood up, my chair skidding backwards, "I've got to go," I said frantically, and rushed out the door, ignoring everyone's bewildered expressions and my dad calling after me, wondering what was wrong.

Will texted me a second after he hung up, saying that the front door was open and I could go right in. He was stretched out on the couch, his hands behind his head and a huge smile on his face, "How'd I do?"

I laughed, "You almost had _me_ convinced."

Will sat up, smirking, "I know, I'm amazing."

I rolled my eyes, and then looked around, the house was silent and all of the lights were off, save for the ones in the room we were occupying. "Are your parents home?"

Will shook his head, "They took Kit to this place, I can't even remember the name, but they said I'd have to make myself dinner tonight."

"Oh, okay," I said, smiling. "So, what were you planning on making for dinner?"

Will stood up smoothly, "I'm not sure yet. I was searching the refrigerator when you called."

I followed him as he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, "We have all of that." He opened the pantry, "And that. You can decide what we make."

I blinked, "Oh, I-- oh, uh--" I stammered, blushing, "I'm okay with whatever you want. Really. I'm bad at making decisions for other people."

Will grinned and I glared at him, "What?" I asked defensively, folding my arms over my chest in a way that I hoped stated that I was extremely unhappy with him.

He just let out a short, breathy laugh and turned to the fridge, shaking his head, "Nothing, Neeks. Just keep being you. I guess we can just make grilled cheese. . ." He reached into the fridge to grab the bread.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Will said, like he was explaining something very simple to a small child, and handing me the bread, "that's when you take two pieces of bread and butter th--"

"I know what a grilled cheese is!" I exclaimed, exasperated, "I was talking about the other part."

"Oh, _that."_ He made a dismissive gesture, "I was just saying that it was nothing important."

I closed my eyes, letting out a deep sigh, and then opened them slowly. "You are absolutely impossible, Will Solace."

He winked at me over his shoulder and went to grab everything else out of the fridge, "Yeah, I've been told that before. It's one of my many endearing qualities, don't you think?"

"Endearing? I don't think so."

We spent the next hour cooking and joking around and trying to smear food over one another when we weren't paying attention, and then eating and talking. Once we were finished, Will insisted on doing all of the dishes, which I assumed he was doing to be nice, but really just wanted the excuse to "accidentally" splash me with water and then laugh as I stood on the opposite side of the room, glaring at him as the front of my borrowed button-up dripped a puddle onto the floor.

Will slipped the last of the dishes into the machine, _"Neeks._ Turn that frown upside-down."

"Easy for you to say. You're completely dry."

Will wiggled his dripping fingers at me, "Not entirely." I couldn't help but laugh and he grinned, "That's more like it."

I glanced down at my phone to check the time, and bit my lip, my parents had both texted me, asking about what was going on and where I was. "I should head back, my parents are worried."

Will nodded, "You can just tell them that I needed someone to talk to and you really don't think it's your place to tell them what's going on with me."

I smiled at him, "Thanks, Will. You're the greatest."

He winked, "You know it. See you tomorrow?"

I nodded, grinning at him over my shoulder as I made my way to his ront door, "Definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know that it most likely bothers you that Percy, Hazel, and all of the others are out of character, but I promise I have good reasons for doing that way even if it doesn't become apparent for a while. Just hang in there. :)


	6. Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to update the last two weeks and you probably didn't notice but I'm apologizing anyway! (also Ik it's not a Tuesday, but I just wanted to get another chapter up, I hope you like it!) Reading through this again makes me want to just rewrite the entire thing, but I don't have the patience or the time

My heart was thudding in my chest, the Supreme Dickhead Crew had just made its way past, and once again, Percy wasn't at the head of it, and no one had paid me any attention (minus the sneer Octavian sent at me, but that was to be expected more than anything). I wasn't sure whether I should celebrate or not. My locker slammed shut with a satisfying _bang!_ that cast those thoughts aside for now, to reveal an amused smirk and a pair of twinkling brown eyes.

I let out an annoyed sigh, wishing for once that Will wasn't home-schooled so he could get me out of this. "Hi, Leo," I greeted, making an effort to sound as unenthusiastic as possible.

"Glad to see you, too." I couldn't detect any of the sarcasm I'd been expecting, which somehow just made it sound even more sarcastic.

I checked my phone, _7:45, five more minutes to the bell to Hell._ I barely suppressed a triumphant smile, "We should probably be heading to class." I pointed out.

Leo nodded, "What's your first period?"

"Mythology with Mr. Riordan," I replied, shifting my weight from foot to foot impatiently.

Leo nodded, "Mine's Science with Kemp, what luck, we can walk together!"

"Oh, joy!" I exclaimed, following Leo as he practically bounced up the hallway. "You know, I am such a people magnet lately."

Leo looked at me doubtfully, "Oh, yeah I saw all those kids sitting with you at lunch."

"Leo, hate to break it to you, but there are people outside of this school, too." I took a moment to look horrified, "And thank God for that."

Leo snorted. At least he appreciated good humor. "So, people magnet?"

"Yeah, I managed to trick this tall kid into being my friend," I said. "Oh, hey! Look, there's my class! Gotta run!" I made a sharp turn into room 243 and sunk into my chair, scowling irritably. I scanned over the date printed in the right hand corner of the board, _Friday, May 22nd. Percy hasn't been here since Tuesday. That's three days and the rest of them still haven't tried anything._ Worry gnawed at my gut as dropped my backpack onto the floor beneath me and leaned back, tempted to kick my feet up on the desk and lounge, but I found that it was better to stay invisible, and that meant not drawing attention to myself. My main concern was that Jackson might want to make up for lost time when he got back, and then I'd really have something to cry about.

Mr. Riordan walked in, grinning widely, and I pulled out my notebook distractedly. _Time for another hour of aimless doodles. At least now I have something to look forward to when I get out of here._ I found myself smiling vaguely, I had Will alone to thank for that.

**-**

I let out a surprised yelp as I turned around from closing my locker at the end of the day, my hand freezing in the middle of zipping my backpack.

Frank crossed the hallway in about two steps and pushed me against the lockers, wadding the collar of my shirt up in his huge fists. It wasn't the way Percy or Jason would've done it, with the pure intent of hurting me and making me look weak, but instead, was purely so I couldn't escape. "Look, I want to be very clear," he started, and I realized that this was the first time he had spoken to me in a threatening tone, and the school was pretty much empty, which meant no witnesses, and no need for him to keep his reputation. _Merda._ "I really like your sister and she _can't_ know about _anything,_ got it?"

I glared at him, rage suddenly bursting to life in my chest and swatting aside any fear I'd been feeling before. "You mean our little arrangement? The one where you stand by and watch while I get beaten senseless so that you can pretend you didn't do anything wrong because _you_ didn't hit me? The one where I don't say anything about it because I know exactly what will happen? Just be a man and say it, _Frank."_

He flinched very slightly, and his jaw tightened. "Shut up, di Angelo." he said, quietly, his beefy hands were shaking, and a small spark of satisfaction rained down inside me. "If you say _one word_ to Hazel, I _personally_ beat you senseless."

I sneered, "You think too highly of my _step_ -sister. She wouldn't _dare un cazzo_ if she found out. Get out of my way, Zhang." I shoved at his chest, but he didn't budge.

"Not until you promise not to say anything," he growled.

"Hey! Why don't pick on someone your own size, Sausage Fingers?"

I never thought I'd be happy to hear the annoying Latino's chirpy voice, but I let out a mocking laugh at Leo's lame insult. Frank, however, ignored it. _"Promise."_

"Hey, I'm talking to you, Dickwad!"

"I promise, okay. Lay off," I snapped.

Frank let go of me and stepped back, "You'd better mean it."

"Yeah, you'd better run!" Leo yelled as Frank walked away, practically filling up the whole hallway, and I rolled my eyes, taking back what I'd thought earlier. I was definitely not happy to see him. I smoothed out my t-shirt angrily and snatched up my backpack from where I'd dropped it on the floor.

"Look," I said, turning to face him, "you _can't_ tell the principal about this. If they get in trouble for it, they'll automatically assume I went and cried about it to someone and that would only make things worse."

"Cross my heart," Leo said, drawing an X over his chest with his pointer. "What was Hot Dog saying to you, anyway?" I assumed this was a bad joke about "frank" being another word for "hot dog."

"He was just making me promise not to say anything to Hazel," I explained, zipping my backpack up the rest of the way. _"Like I would."_

Leo shook his head and fell into step with me as I walked towards the doors, the opposite direction from where Frank had gone. "He's an A-class asshole."

I grunted my agreement. "No kidding."

Leo shook his head and quickly changed the subject by asking my opinion on some movie that sounded vaguely familiar.

-

I nodded as he paused his endless rambling, obviously expecting an answer. I'd stopped listening some time ago when were just a few streets away from the school. He didn't seem to notice that I was off in my own world and only saying, "Yeah" or nodding when the situation called for it.

My head snapped up as someone called my name, an extremely familiar voice, in fact. My eyes focused in on Will and I let my face shift into a relaxed smile as he jogged up to us.

"Hey, Neeks," he said, glancing over at Leo. "I thought you said you don't have any friends. . . or was that just your way of guilting me into hanging out with you?" he teased.

Leo looked at Will, being only about an inch taller than me, he had to crane his neck to do so. "Oh, this is that tall kid you were talking about."

I rolled my eyes and gestured to Leo, "This is Leo, he's more of an acquaintance."

Leo stuck his hand out to Will, "Nice to meet you."

Will grinned and shook his hand while I watched awkwardly. "I'm Will Solace, Nico's neighbor and. . ." he looked over at me, raising his brow in question, "is it safe for me to call me your friend, or am I still just being tolerated?"

I acted like I was taking this into consideration for a few moments, "You can call yourself my friend, but _only_ because you got me out of having dinner with Frank."

Will laughed and Leo gaped at me. "You had to have dinner with Frank? Frank Zhang? Sausage Fingers Frank?"

 _"Almost,"_ I said, cutting him off before he could run through his never-ending list of nicknames, and casting him a look that clearly said, 'Don't say _anything_ about it.' "My sister is dating him. She goes to Yancy so she doesn't know what he's like at school."

Leo obviously got the idea that I didn't want Will to know what went on, I gave him a point for that. "Oh," was all he said.

"So, do you live close by?" Will asked him, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

Leo nodded, "Yeah, I live on Parr."

Will looked at me for clarification.

"It's a few streets down from Nelson Way, the neighborhood that leads to ours," I told him, smiling a little.

Will laughed, crinkling his nose. "I know what street leads to ours, Neeks."

I punched him lightly on the arm, "Shut up."

Will just laughed again and turned to Leo without replying, "Me and Neeks are going to CiCi's, it's this great ice cream place, do you wanna come?" he asked, giving Leo that little lopsided smile. I felt a pang of something almost like anger in my chest, spurred by a stubborn voice in the back of my head that wanted all of Will's attention trained on me, like I was the only person he could smile at. I brushed it aside immediately, it didn't make any sense at all, and it completely freaked me out that I'd felt it, if even for split second.

"No, thanks." Leo brushed at the oil stains on his over-sized army jacket like that would make them go away. "This Bad Boy has other things to do." He winked at Will, who laughed before saying goodbye and pulling me in the direction I'd just come from. I waved hurriedly over my shoulder at Leo and then looked up at Will.

"So ,when did you decide that we were going to CiCi's?" I asked, smiling when he looked down at me, that lopsided grin on his face again.

He shrugged, chuckling. "Just now, actually. Before that, I was just bored and I decided to come meet you," he informed me.

"Couldn't stay away, eh?" I teased, bumping my shoulder against his, which was really closer to his elbow, considering the height difference.

"You could say that." Will replied, "Didn't Leo say something about me being 'that tall kid you were talking about?'" He smirked as he said it.

"More like _mentioned,"_ I clarified.

"Suurrre. I bet you ramble _on and on_ about the color of my eyes to him at lunch," he jeered.

I shoved him playfully and he took a small step to the left to steady himself. "Your ego is getting out of hand, you _stronzo."_

"You know, that really isn't fair."

I puffed out a disbelieving breath. "No, it's true."

  * "I was talking about the fact that I never know what you're calling me," he corrected.



I laughed, "Because you're a _c_ _azzo cagna."_

He groaned, "What have I done?"

 _"_ _Mi avete dato un grande strumento, grazie Will,"_ I said, smirking.

Will pouted, "What did you just say?"

_"_ _Cio è per me da sapere e per te da non scoprire."_

We spent the rest of the walk to CiCi's arguing playfully, Will in English, demanding that I tell him what I was saying, and me in Italian, mostly just rambling about nonsense and insulting him happily.

Will cheered loudly, much to the employee's confusion, as I consulted him about what to get, in English, and a couple of minutes later, we were sitting at a table with a single bowl of mixed _stracciatella e gelato al pistacchio_ _,_ which we split the bill for, and two spoons.

Will took a bite of the _stracciatella,_ and closed his eyes, the tip of his spoon still firmly between his teeth as he _'mmm-ed'_ his appreciation. "I love Italy." he said.

"Me too," I said, smiling sadly down at the bowl and stabbing at the _gelato_ with my spoon. "By the way, I should probably head home after this. I want to spend time with my dad while he's here."

Will nodded his understanding, and then his gaze landed on my hand; he reached across the table and grabbed my wrist, looking offended, "What did the _gelato_ ever do to you?"

"Your accent sucks," I informed him instead of answering, pulling out of his grip and flicking a bit of _stracciatella_ at him with my plastic spoon.

He reached up and wiped it off with his hand and licked it off his fingers while I judged him silently. "What? I'm not going to let any of it go to waste."

I laughed and scooped a spoonful of pistachio, "Good point." I said a moment before I ate it.

We ate in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, Will making me laugh by blocking me from getting any _gelato_ with his spoon and looking deathly serious about it. He smiled suddenly, his gaze fixated on something over my shoulder.

"What're you looking at?" I asked lightly, turning around to find out. My gaze landed on a couple-- two boys-- holding hands as they ordered. Disgust kicked in my gut, brought on by years of people telling me that it was the proper reaction.

"What?" I asked, looking back at Will.

He shrugged, "It just makes me happy, you know, that they feel comfortable showing their affection out in public like that. I mean, the world really shouldn't have a problem with them innocently. . ." he trailed off, seeing the expression on my face, his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"But. . . It's not natural. It's not right." I explained, like it was obvious, "I mean. . . They're both guys. It's disgusting." My mouth was doing every ounce of thinking right then, and judging by Will's face, it wasn't a good thing. At all.

He looked like a slowly deflating balloon for a couple of seconds, almost like I had just slapped him and he was trying to decide whether it would be more appropriate to succumb to tears or hit me back. It made my chest tighten with fear, seeing the anger and hurt building in his eyes.

"Is that what they are. . . _disgusting?"_ His voice was quiet, and it quavered slightly. He looked like all of the hope had been sucked right out of him. "Like some kind of mold that's been growing on your leftovers?"

I didn't understand what he was getting so upset about. "Will. . .?"

He stared at me for a couple of seconds, almost like he was daring me to apologize, but the devastation underlying it told me he knew I wouldn't. "I'm gay, Nico." He words sounded broken, but even right then he didn't say my name like it was an insult, it just sounded hollow, like he was reciting some foreign word he had to know for a test. That stung even more, because the way he'd said it in the past had made me feel like I actually meant something.

I stared at him in shock, "Y-you--"

Will's lips tightened into an unbreakable line, his jaw clenched so tight he looked like a statue, hard and unfeeling. Unless you looked into his eyes, you could hardly call them unfeeling right then. His chair screeched loudly across the checkered tiles, almost toppling over, as he stood up in one lighting fast movement, shaking, his hands braced against the table, his muscles rigid. "Is that what I am to you now that you know? _Disgusting?"_ he was whispering, his voice choked, but a few people were turning to look.

My mouth opened and closed, my heart beating out its erratic panic, but the words flying around inside my brain couldn't find their way out. _No. No. Will is anything but disgusting. He's the only person that's been nice to me purely because he wants to. Because he sees something in me._ Saw _something in me._ I corrected, gripping the table and feeling sick.

He slammed his hand down on the table, causing the bowl and silverware to jump into the air, the metal napkin dispenser tumbled off the edge. "ANSWER ME."

I remembered suddenly how I had felt with Percy, screaming at him to answer because I wanted proof that my words had affected him in some way. "No-- Will, you're--" I stumbled desperately.

 _"LIAR."_ Tears were streaming freely from his eyes now. "Why would it be any different for me?"

"Wi--"

"No. No, Nico. I don't. . ." His voice had gone quiet again, which hurt even more than him yelling at me. "I don't even want to hear you say my name again." He had whipped around before he even finished speaking. This time, his chair did fall, landing with a resounding crash that shook me to the core, and then he was gone.

I stared at the place where he'd disappeared, only half aware of the people gawking at me. I wasn't sure when I'd stood up, but my legs were shaking so badly that I was forced to fall back into my chair before they gave out. I wanted to run after him and apologize, beg him not to be mad at me, but I knew that he wouldn't listen.

I might have started crying right then, I don't really remember, all I knew is that my chest felt cold and regretful. Numb. I'd known this was going to happen eventually, I would do something and Will would realize that he really didn't want to be around me, but that didn't make it any easier to accept, in fact, it made it harder, because I had been beginning to believe that just maybe it wasn't true.

Someone came up and asked if I was okay, but I ignored them, standing up shakily and moving out the door. The next thirty minutes were a blur of sidewalk and honking cars as I blundered my way back home.

It was like I'd lost the only speck of happiness I'd had in my life. I guess, because I had. Will made things seem better, I could smile when he was around. I'd spent so long pretending that I was happy, when really I was always worried, anxious, and sad. I didn't want to go back to that. I just wanted Will back.

A small part of me had been hoping I'd run into him on the way to my house, but he'd probably taken another route or gone somewhere else entirely.

I was smart enough to sit down at the corner before turning onto the tiny street I shared with Will so that I could get a grip on my emotions.

_You've only known him for a week. He's just a kid. It's a good thing he got out now, before you could hurt him anymore. Before he could hurt you anymore. You've survived four years on your own. What difference does another two make? This is all your fault anyway, just take it like a man and move on._

I wiped any traces of wetness from my face and then sat there, breathing steadily until I thought my face looked relatively normal and not-puffy, and then I stood up and walked to my house, only remembering to slap on a smile the moment before I opened the door.

**-**

Saturday went by in a blur of regret and desolation. Several times I'd tried to work up the courage to call Will and apologize, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it for fear that I'd have to hear his voice full of hate again.

My parents seemed to realize something wasn't right, exchanging worried glances as I picked at my meal half-heartedly at dinner, not paying attention to Mrs. O'Leary as she poked at my side with her nose. I wasn't even trying to hide the fact that I was sad. I dismissed myself from the table and headed up to my room, where I curled up in a mass of blankets and beat myself up over what I'd said. It was almost like I'd become my own tormentor in place of Percy.

I pulled out my cell phone and started reading through all of the texts Will and I had exchanged while I was in school, late at night and early in the morning when neither of us could sleep, random moments during the day when one of us got bored.

I laughed sadly, trying to convince myself that I should be grateful for the week I'd had with him as my friend, and then I fell asleep with the tiny device curled in my fingers.

**-**

A knock sounded at my bedroom door, but I wasn't feeling up to answering it or even moving out from under my blanket nest anytime soon.

"Nico, come on downstairs. We're going out for lunch." Marie's voice coaxed.

I closed my eyes, blowing out a breath, "You can go without me, I'm not feeling too good," I called to her. It wasn't the complete truth, but it wasn't really a lie either, I _wasn't_ feeling good, just not in the way she would assume.

Marie didn't reply and I assumed she was just going to leave me alone, but a minute later, my bedroom door opened and someone sat at the foot of my bed.

"Nico." My father's thick voice was worried, "You've been acting strange since you got home on Friday, is everything alright?"

"I already told you, I just don't feel good." I pulled the blanket away from my face to look at him.

"Are you sure? You could invite Will and you two could decide where we go," he pressed.

I averted my gaze, a pang of sorrow piercing my chest at his name. "N-no. That's okay, I think Will's busy today anyway," I muttered, a muscle in my face twitching.

Hades was silent for a moment. "Is everything okay between you two?"

I closed my eyes. It wouldn't do any good to lie to him, it would just make things more complicated in the long run. "We got in a fight," I said simply.

My dad nodded his understanding, "Friendship is a curious thing. Like most things, it can bring us great joy, but also much grief. Don't let this be the thing that brings you down, _tutto andrà bene, vedrai."_

"Thanks, Dad." I said, _"_ _Spero che possano."_ _I was already down before this,_ I wanted to add.

He stood up, "I'm always there if you need me. Are you still staying here?"

"Yeah," I told him.

He nodded and left my room, clucking his tongue for Mrs. O'Leary to follow.

I reached for my phone and typed in Will's number, my finger hovered over the call button for the hundredth time that weekend. I stared at the screen, trying to convince myself to press the button until it timed out. I sighed and flipped it closed, closing my eyes.

 _What would I say anyway? 'Hey, Will. I'm sorry I totally called you disgusting and-- oh, whoops! You said you never wanted to hear me say your name again, well, this is awkward. Bye.' And what would_ he _say?_

_I'd deserve all of it no matter what._

_Technically you didn't do anything wrong._ A voice whispered in the back of my head, _You were just telling him_ _what_ _you believe._

I shook my head and then buried my face in my pillow. Will had every right to be mad at me. _I'm a sorry excuse for a human being._

I dragged myself out of bed, wanting something to get my mind off of my shattered friendship, and headed for the kitchen. Once there, I started rooting through everything for comfort food.

I found some pralines and caramel ice cream and set to work getting myself a generous helping of it. I finished and started making my way back to my room with the bowl. Voices filtered into the entryway from the living room, and I didn't think anything of it until one of the voices' owner stepped out of the room.

I froze in my tracks and the bowl slipped from my fingers, shattering and making a mess around my feet.

The other voices ceased and Hazel's alone carried our way, "Is everything okay out there?"

"Yeah, everything is fine." Jason said, smiling at me in a way that made my stomach churn. He didn't take his eyes off of me as Hazel appeared in the doorway next to him.

My sister rolled her big golden eyes, "Sorry about my brother," she said, glaring at me. "Stop staring at him like he's some weird creature."

I took a step back and forced myself to wrench my eyes away from Jason to look at her, "Sorry." I said quietly, "I-- I'll clean it up."

I rushed into the kitchen and got what I needed to clean up my mess. They had disappeared back into the living room when I returned, but my hands still shook as I swept the bowl into a dust pan and wiped up the ice cream with some paper towels. My home had been the place I was positive I could be safe from them. Frank being there wasn't that big of a deal, I doubted he'd tell anyone where I lived, but Jason was a whole other story.

I listened closely for a second to the conversation going on in the next room, it was just Hazel, Frank, and Jason. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief, Octavian and Percy hadn't crossed into my safe zone. Yet.

I didn't waste any time disposing of my mess of glass and used paper towels before I ran up the stairs and locked myself in my room. There was no possible way I was letting any of them get near my sanctuary.

I backed up from the door, watching it like Frank was going to bust it down any second. "Oh _Dio,"_ I muttered. "I can't get away anymore."

I fell onto my bed, staring at the wall in horror. If I went to school, they were there, if I went out, there was always the chance they'd be there, if I was here, they could be too. I couldn't even go to Will's anymore.

I pressed my face into my hands, "Please, just let things work out. Please, just once." My voice cracked on the last word and I pulled in a rattling breath before a sob slipped out of my mouth.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and forced myself to stop crying. "Crying is weakness. I need to be strong."

**-**

Another knock at my door. I called for whoever it was to come in. My father's face was lined with concern for me, I hadn't come out of my room since I'd seen Jason, which would have been normal a week ago.

"We're having dinner soon, Nico." His accented voice pushed past the dark, gloomy haze I was in. It was strange how my own accent had faded so much in four years and his hadn't; hearing him talk made my heart ache with nostalgia.

"I'm not hungry," I answered after a long silence.

My father sighed sympathetically. "I know Will was the first friend you'd had in a while." _Was._

I looked him in the eye, "He's in the past now." I wanted to believe that it was a lie.

My dad looked doubtful and sad but dropped the subject. "You should at least eat something."

I nodded absently, "Yeah, okay. I'll come down for dinner."

**-**

I regretted the decision the moment I stepped into the dining room. Jason gave me a smile that was thinly laced with venom and Frank gave me a quick warning glare. _You'd better keep that promise._

They were sitting on either side of Hazel, Jason on the left, Frank on the right.

I swallowed and walked stiffly over to my chair, my father was seated at the right end of the table, next to me, my mother to the left, at the head. _This time I don't have Will to get me out of it._

My mom didn't seem to notice anything peculiar, my dad however, glanced back and forth between the three of us, a muscle near his jaw twitching. I made an effort to keep my eyes off of his while he passed me the salad after my mom offered the blessing.

A conversation started and I stared down at my plate, picking at the food there slowly, and shutting out all of the noise around me.

_"Nico!"_

My head shot up and my father's laughing eyes met my own, his brow crinkled as they met mine. "Where have you been? I called your name about five times."

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as Jason and my mom laughed, their tones completely different, while Frank and Hazel sat in silence, the latter of the two rolling her eyes and the former seeming extremely awkward.

"O-oh," I stuttered. "Sorry, I was just. . . thinking. . . What'd you need?"

"Jason was just telling me you have a few classes together," my dad informed me, his black eyes asking more than his words did. I could feel the blonde's eyes on the back of my head, daring me to say something, and Frank's promising a dark fate if I did.

I just nodded, attempting to look and sound as at ease as possible. I tried to imagine Will's voice and smile, the ones before I ruined everything. It would have helped a lot more if my throat didn't close up at the knowledge he'd never smile or speak to me like that again. "Yeah. We do."

Hades smiled again, "Which ones?"

I poked at my chicken with my fork. "Just language arts and foods." I made myself look back up at him, "We don't talk much."

"Yeah." Jason piped up from the left end of the table, "We haven't really talked too often, but I've seen him."

Frank took up the role of 'Overly Interested Plate-Observer' in my stead. Hazel leaned over and whispered something in his ear and Frank glanced up at her long enough to shake his head. His jaw tensed at Jason's next sentence.

"Maybe we'll talk more often now that we know each other." He sounded surprisingly pleasant, but I knew he was really taunting me. I flinched very slightly, but judging by the smirk that flitted across his face, I knew he'd noticed.

"May I be excused?" I asked quietly, feeling stupid and small staring at the surface of the table.

My mom seemed confused by the question, "We're having banana cream pie for dessert," she informed me, as if that would solve all of my problems. I wished things could be that simple. Instead, the words 'banana cream pie' brought me back to the day when Will had smiled at me for the first time. It seemed like I'd known him for a lot longer than a week.

I shook my head, "I'm okay." I said quietly, telling my mom that I didn't want any pie, but telling myself that I wasn't going to fall to pieces.

I fell asleep wondering if Will was thinking of me right then; how many times I'd crossed his mind over the past two days. _Is it_ _even_ normal _to think of someone this often?_

**-**

I slept.

I ate.

I went to school.

I survived.

I told myself that I didn't care. That I was numb. During the day it was easy to believe. Easy to drift through the work, to only half wake up when Jason, who seemed to have become the stand-in pack leader, taunted me. Octavian pitched in too, while Frank tried to fade into the background, but he was over at my house much to often to be invisible.

My nights were anything but numb. Sleeping was sometimes more of a torture than being awake, even when my dreams were pleasant. _Especially_ when they were pleasant. Waking up and being reminded of the truth was like the incident at CiCi's on constant replay; being given happiness so temporarily and then having it snatched away in the blink of an eye.

It'd been two weeks since that day and I still hadn't been able to bring myself to go across the street and talk to him or even send a simple text. I'd even seen him a few times, out front playing with Kit, leaving or returning to his house; he even had a few other people with him a couple of times. I never tried to draw attention to myself, and if Will saw me, he didn't acknowledge my presence. At least it was better than him glaring at me or taking every chance he got to make me feel even more guilty than I already did. I couldn't see Will doing anything like that anyway.

I wandered into art and sunk into my chair. _Another class. Same old routine. Same old, regular day._ I watched Mr. Ptah through glazed eyes, half-listening to what he was saying as I twirled my pencil in my fingers. I dropped my gaze to the writing utensil; an orange blur now. It looked like my life felt lately, unclear and hazy, just going through the same motions over and over. Except my life would be a much duller color, like grey or brown. Or black. Definitely black.

Warm air drifted over the back of my neck and the pencil froze, my fingers clenching it so hard that it probably would have snapped had I been stronger.

"Miss me?" Percy whispered, and my jaw tightened along with my shoulder muscles.

Suddenly Mr. Ptah stopped speaking, his gaze frozen on Percy. "Mr. Jackson, if what you're saying is so important, why don't you share it with the class." His normally jovial tone was full of harsh guile and I wondered if he could tell Percy wasn't sharing an interesting incite with a friend.

I sensed Percy move away from me, heard it as his expensive jeans hit the plastic of his chair. I imagined him giving our teacher a smile laced with sarcasm, his arms folded, lounging back in his chair like he owned the place. I didn't want to turn around to find out if I was right.

"I was just telling Nico that it's good to see him again."

Mr. Ptah stared over my head for a few seconds before he turned abruptly, clearing his throat. "Right. . . Where was I. . .?"

Percy always won in the end.

**-**

It was like a light switch had been flicked on after that, I was suddenly thrown back into reality, into realizing that if I was numb I couldn't feel, but I also couldn't be aware. My nerves were ringing the rest of the day, I was just waiting for him to pounce. I was a gazelle trying to hide from a lion in grass that was to short for me to go unseen but to high for me to keep an eye on my hunter.

I still had hope when the bell rang at the end of the day, I still raced to my locker and threw my things into my bag haphazardly. I guess I never learned my lesson. Gazelles are fast, but so are lions, and they're vicious and cunning as well.

I went out the back, hoping that they'd expect me to go through the front, but they were smarter than that. Percy and Jason were waiting when I barreled through the door, I could only assume that Frank and Octavian would have been waiting had I gone out the front.

I thought fleetingly that I could have gone out the side door, but I'd have to cross in front or back of the school to get to my house. I was doomed from the start.

I stalled as soon as I caught sight of them, my hand still bracing the door open. They stared me down for what simultaneously felt like eternity and no time at all.

"Aren't you going to welcome me back?" Percy finally broke the silence, the look on his face told me he was out for blood. He looked absolutely livid and I couldn't remember ever being more terrified in my life. Except, of course, when I was still trying to process that my family was gone.

He stalked towards me, gesturing for Jason to stay put, and I barely managed to take a weak step backwards in my panic before he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and yanked me towards him. The door swung closed, clipping my shoulder and colliding with my ankle in the process. My knees hit the ground, but Percy didn't release my shirt, and I heard stitching through the collar snapping.

"Stand up," he snarled, and I could have sworn his voice hitched on the last letter.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to break free, my movements frantic. Percy shoved me back into the door, and pain shot through me. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath against my face. I squirmed and shoved at his chest and he yanked me forward just to slam me back against the door again.

 _"Why?"_ he yelled, _"I DON'T GET IT."_

He slammed a fist into the window next to my head so hard that I was surprised the glass didn't crack. And then he sobbed. Percy Jackson. The _stronzo_ who beat on me every day he could. The kid who acted like he was untouchable. _Cazzo._ He _was_ untouchable. And he knew it. But I didn't have time to feel any remorse for him, or maybe I just couldn't. I did, however, take a moment to be extremely confused.

"Wh-"

He slapped me as hard as he could across the face, "SHUT UP, DI ANGELO. _SHUT UP._ "

He stepped back and threw me to the ground, my forearms hit first, and then my hands, skidding over the asphalt, layers of skin peeling away as easy as tearing through a single sheet of paper.

A foot collided with my back, smashing the rest of my body into the road. I barely managed to keep my face from taking the brunt of it. I was trying to crawl away, to do _anything,_ but his sneaker was firmly planted on the small of my back and then he was forcing me to roll over, his foot was on my chest, pushing down, making it hard to breathe.

 _"IT'S NOT FAIR,"_ he screamed down at me, taking a moment to bring his foot back before it connected harshly with my chin.

He bent down and grabbed me by the front of my shirt, dragging me back up again. I barely had any energy left to try and fight back. I wasn't exactly sure what happened next, but my vision became a blur of angry, broken sea green eyes and then bricks.

 _"SHE DIDN'T DESERVE IT,"_ he wailed, and then my head my head was an explosion of pain and my vision completely winked out without me closing my eyes. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, please correct the Italian if you can because I'm sure it's terrible


	7. Confusion is the First Step in Understanding

The first thing I registered as I drifted into consciousness were my slow, heavy breaths. My eyes fluttered open just long enough for me to find that it was dark outside and then clenched shut again as I became aware of the pounding deep inside of my skull. Tiny rocks dug into my side when I rolled over, groaning and clutching my head. _"Dio,"_ I muttered through gritted teeth.The last thing I remembered was Percy slamming me up against the school and the shooting pain that had come with it. My entire body was aching and I wondered just how long they (assuming the others joined in at some point) had continued to beat me after I blacked out.

_"Merda,"_ I cursed as I put pressure on a gash across my palm, my voice came out weak and choked. I flopped back onto my back, my breathing faltering and becoming tiny sobs despite my best efforts. I hated crying. Crying is weak and pitiful and I seemed to be crumbling into tears more and more often lately.

_I need to get up._ I told myself, willing my hands to stop shaking as I turned onto my side again and got to my feet, taking care not to press my wound to the ground again. My breathing hitched and I reached out to brace myself on the wall. My gaze was met, not with the side of a portable, but with another brick wall. I wasn't in back of the school anymore.

I stumbled to the edge of the alleyway, looking around with growing panic. None of the run-down shops on either side of the street looked familiar to me. I had no idea where I was or how I was going to get home and this didn't look like the kind of place where I would be able to get help without possibly getting my throat sliced open.

_Will._ The name sent a wave of relief crashing over me as I delved my hands into the pockets of my jeans, _I need to call Will._ But even as I checked and double checked every pocket I had, there was no sign of my crappy flip-phone.

"Oh, _Dio."_ I pressed my back against the cold bricks, clenching my eyes shut again. "I need to calm down," I told myself unsteadily after a couple of seconds. I forced myself to heed my own advice and think rationally and realized I'd seen a telephone booth just a little ways down the street. Opening my eyes and taking a deep breath, I peeled myself away from the wall and took a shaky step forward.

Once I got inside, I leaned heavily against the side of the phone booth, which was metal on the bottom half and glass the rest of the way up; several panes had been shattered, leaving sharp, jagged pieces scattered over the floor. I picked up the dingy-looking phone, slipped a dime into the slot, and punched Will's number in as easily as I could say my own name. The phone rang a couple of times before going to voicemail. It hit me that I had no idea what time it was, and even if Will had answered, he'd probably hang up at the sound of my voice. That last realization was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. Nevertheless, I started talking right after the beep.

"Will. . ." I said, my voice sounding strange to my own ears, distant and panicked. My head was throbbing. "I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry. . . I'm _so, so_ sorry, Will. . . I really need your help. . . I. . . I need. . . I just. . . Oh, _Dio_. . . I don't know where I--" I let out a small grunt of pain as I shifted my weight, staring out the opposite side of the phone booth. It was all I could do to keep from crying, "--am. It doesn't look like a good part of town. There's a clothes store across the street from the phone booth I'm in. . ." I read off the names of the stores I could see until my time ran out and the prerecorded voice demanded another coin. I fished around in my pockets, but couldn't find anything but a penny and some lint. I was starting to feel light-headed. I slid down the metal wall, my vision going black at the edges.

Eyes squeezed tight. . . Clutching my skull. . . I hoped Will came. . . Body throbbing. . . So. . . So tired. . .

-

After that, all I remembered were brief snatches of events that seemed more like dreams than real life: Will's voice calling my name frantically, Will talking into his cell phone in an anxious tone, Will hovering near me like he was afraid to even touch me, unfamiliar voices and sounds. . . and now this. Light piercing my eyelids, my hand being extremely warm, obnoxious beeping. I opened my eyes slowly and Will's face swam above me.

"Nico, you're awake." He clenched my hand tighter and then released it quickly. His eyes were filled with so much relief I thought that they might start overflowing with it. I registered distantly that that sounded a lot like crying.

"Why am I in a hospital?" I wondered, turning my head to look at the heart-rate monitor positioned dutifully at my side. Everything seemed to be processing too slowly in my brain.

"You don't remember?" Will's scared voice prompted me to turn my head back in his direction.

I shook my head, Will's eyes widened, but I put a hand up to keep him from speaking. "I remember. . . I just don't know why I'm in a hospital." I explained after a second.

Will's eyes danced with what I could've sworn was at least partially amusement, "I just didn't know how bad of shape you were in when I found you. You could've had injuries I couldn't see. . . Turns out you do have a minor concussion."

I nodded, "From slamming my head against the wall. . ." I thought aloud.

Will's brow furrowed, "What happened anyway?"

I stared at his face for a second, I couldn't believe that he was actually here, that he was so concerned for me. He didn't even seem to care about the things I had said back at CiCi's. He just wanted to know that I was okay and I'd put money on the fact that he'd beat _la merda vivente_ out of all four of them if he knew the truth. And now I was going to lie to him.

"I think. . . I mean. . . I was walking home, and all of a sudden someone grabbed me. . . shoved my head into the wall. . . That's all I remember. And then I woke up in an alley and my phone was gone. . . I don't know why they'd take it. . . it wasn't worth much at all. . ." That wasn't true, I knew exactly why they'd taken it. They wanted to go through it, search for even more ammunition. They probably even thought it was funny that I couldn't call for help. "But I guess that was all I really had on me. . ." My eyes widened, the realization was the only thing I wasn't faking. "Oh."

Will leaned closer, I couldn't follow the emotions playing out in his eyes. "What?" His voice was hushed like he was listening to a horror story around a campfire.

"My backpack. They took that too. . ." My chest felt hollow, my sketch pad had been in there. All of that hard work, gone. There was no way I was getting it back. I could almost hear Octavian's voice, sneering some snide comment about my art. "My drawings. . ."

"Oh. . ." That was all Will had to say. I knew that the emotion on his face wasn't a lie, and right then he looked so deeply sympathetic for me that it made my heart ache.

His hand twitched like he wanted to do something, but was forcing himself not to. I let my eyes wander over his fingers for the millionth time instead of looking him in the eyes. "When can I get out of here?" I forced out, instead of all of the things I really wanted to say: _I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I shouldn't have called you. I'm glad that I did._

Will opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by the doctor bursting in. I went through the same thing I had with Will, except the doctor was much more brisk and business-like. He explained why I was here, that I had a concussion, he asked what exactly had happened, if I was having any trouble remembering anything, or if I was feeling anything else unusual, (I told him the truth: that I couldn't remember exactly what my attacker had been saying before they knocked me out, that I only remembered snatches of what had happened after I had called Will, and that I had a headache, I felt a bit dizzy, that it was almost like I was dreaming, in a daze). He'd nodded and told me that me that we'd discuss everything else as soon as my mother got back (she'd stepped out briefly to use the restroom), and he'd wait outside for her.

My step-mom came in shortly after that and raced over to my bed, picking up my hand and gripping it just like Will had been doing when I woke up. She smoothed my hair back from my face, her eyes glistening with tears, and she told me how worried she had been when I didn't come home from school and I didn't call her. Apparently she'd started calling the police, but they'd said I wouldn't be identified as missing for forty-eight hours and they couldn't do anything until then. My father was on the first flight home and he'd be here as soon as he could.

I assured her that I was fine, I didn't mention the fact that my head was pounding again and everything sounded like I was underwater. I looked over at Will to find that he was watching me with a troubled expression on his face and I gave him a tired smile. He smiled back with one side of his mouth, it was the first smile I'd seen from him that made me want to frown instead of grin back.

"What's wr--" but the doctor was explaining that I'd have to stay for just a couple of days (or less) while they ran more tests, and then I could go home. I'd have to rest often, I couldn't exert myself too much, he told me that if my symptoms started lessening I could become more and more active, but if they worsened while I was doing something, I was pushing myself too far. He reminded me not to ignore my symptoms and "tough it out," that it would only make things worse.

I closed my eyes against the pounding in my skull as he spoke, Will's fingers brushed over my arm and I lifted my heavy eyelids to look at him as the doctor told my mom what things I should avoid and when to give me my medicine, _blah, blah, blah._

"How're you doing?" Will asked softly.

I started laughing and then stopped when a sharp pain flashed through my skull. "I've been better," I told him, wincing.

"I can imagine." He tilted his head to the side, "Where'd you get all of your other injuries?"

"I don't know. . ." I said after a second, which was mostly true. Most of the cuts and bruises covering me had been acquired after I passed out. I hoped Percy felt tough, beating up an unconscious scrawny runt.

Will frowned, "You don't remember?"

I shook my head, "I don't. . . but that's not what's important. I want to apologize for what I said. I really appreciate you, you've been nothing but nice to me and I-- I--" _I was miserable without you._

_"Sssshh. . ."_ he soothed, "I couldn't care less what you said. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that last thing I said to you was that I never wanted to see you again. . ." His mouth tightened into a thin line at the thought.

I smiled weakly at him, it was the most I could manage even though I felt like there was so much more bubbling just below the surface, and let my eyes close, my breathing evening out. I didn't think anything of his fingers brushing over my forehead, curling into my hair, just that it was calming.

**-**

The next time I woke up, a nurse was standing next to my bed, scratching notes onto a clipboard. She was pretty in a quiet, honest way, with her brunette hair pulled back into a loose bun and a stream of freckles across her cheeks. She glanced up at me and then smiled and set down her clipboard when she saw that I was awake.

"Hey, Nico, how are you doing?" she asked, adjusting the blankets pulled over me. "I'm Nurse Jenkins, me and Nurse Berns will taking care of you for the duration of your stay," she informed me in a more professional tone.

I looked around the room, "Will. . . My parents." I croaked, my voice felt like it hadn't been used in forever, which was weird because I couldn't have been out for very long.

"Your parents left after they made absolutely sure you were okay, they told us to call when you woke up, and your friend had to get home to his family." She smiled ruefully, "He probably would have stayed here with you until the sun died out, but his parents came by and made him go home."

I closed my eyes, smiling. "Yeah, that sounds like Will," I said quietly. "Can I call my mom myself?"

She nodded and handed me the old phone from on top of the nightstand next to my bed, it was one of those that had a long, loopy cord connecting it to its base. I told the nurse my mom's phone number and she punched it into the old, clunky keypad for me.

The phone rang twice before my mom answered, "Is he awake?"

"Yeah, I'm awake, Mom," I answered, trying to make my voice sound like my whole body wasn't throbbing.

"Nico!" she exclaimed, and then I could hear a frantic Italian accent in the background. "We're coming over right now!"

"Okay, Mom. I love you." I hesitated for a second before adding, "Could you go across the street and see if Will can come with you?"

"Of course, sweetheart." I could still hear my dad in the background, probably demanding to talk to me while Marie shooed him away.

"Thanks. Can I talk to Dad?" I shifted the phone from one ear to the other, which turned out to be a bad idea because I quickly discovered that I had stitches from on my right temple that curved down and then stopped a couple of centimeters from the tip of my ear. I picked the wrong moment to curse loudly.

"NICO! _Modera il linguaggio!"_ my father exclaimed.

"Sorry, Dad," I said sheepishly, wincing and putting the phone back against my other ear. "It just hurt a lot."

He sighed, "I'm sorry. How are you doing?"

"It's fine, you're just doing your job," I told him, smiling with one side of my mouth. "I'm doing as good as I can be. You can see for yourself when you get here."

"Yes," he replied, and then Marie's muffled voice and the sound of the door opening and closing sounded in the background. "I'll see you soon."

I nodded even though he couldn't see me, _"Ti voglio bene."_

I could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. _"Ti voglio bene anch'io. Noi ci saremo presto."_

_"Addio per ora,"_ I answered, and then I hung up the phone and handed it back to Nurse Jenkins. "They're coming right now," I informed her.

"Good," she said, smiling at me, "In the meantime, we should get you something to eat." She held out a laminated paper titled 'Menu' in a loopy font. "What do you want?"

-

My parents arrived about fifteen minutes later, when I'd already finished my meal (that's how hungry I'd been), and my heart dropped when Will didn't enter after them. I stared at the slowly closing door desolately for a few moments until it suddenly swung inwards again. I couldn't suppress the huge, relieved smile that sprang to my lips.

_"Nico!"_ my father exclaimed, and I switched my attention to him. He walked swiftly over to my bed, "Would it hurt you too much if I hugged you?"

I shook my head and my father stooped down and embraced me carefully like I was breakable. I bet he didn't realize that I was already broken, and not just on the outside.

He pulled away, "I'm so sorry I was not here when this happened."

I shook my head, "You're here now _e questo è tutto ciò che conta."_

My father smiled at me and stepped aside to make room for Marie to stand next to him while Will walked around my bed and pulled up a chair to my right.

"Hazel couldn't make it," my step-mom explained, probably not elaborating any further on purpose. Chances were that my step-sister wasn't doing anything too important, and could've come if she really wanted to.

I nodded, "That's alright, she has all the time in the world to see me when I get home."

She bent over to stroke my face worriedly, "Are you in a lot of pain?"

I shrugged. "It's not too bad. My headache is already a lot better."

She nodded, combing my hair with her fingers. Sometimes the things she did reminded me so much of my real mom that it hurt. "That's good. . . The police want to come interview you as soon as they can."

I nodded, my gut twisting. Lying to the police was a lot more serious than anything I'd ever done before. "They can come any time they want."

"Okay, I'll let them know. . ." she said, and shook her head, "Can you believe they actually thought Will had done it?"

My head snapped over to him, causing pain to shoot through my skull, "They _what?"_

He shrugged, smiling a little. "I had that voicemail from you, and my parents to back me up," he explained, and then he laughed, "They were so mad at me for taking their car. . . until they found out why. My parents, I mean."

I smiled back at him, "How'd you find me?" I asked, searching his face, I wasn't really sure what I was looking for.

"I typed one of the store names you gave me into Google and then went to the one in the worst location listed." He stared at me for a couple of seconds, before whispering, "I was so scared, Nico."

_Nico_. I relished the way he said my name, so different from the moment before he'd stormed out of CiCi's when it had seemed so empty.

"I'm sorry," I told him as a tear fell down his cheek. "Don't cry, Will."

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head, "Don't be." and we just looked at each other for a second before Will laughed softly, wiping droplets from his face. "Okay."

"Will you promise me something?" It came out more like a plea than I'd intended.

"Depends on what it is." He sounded amused.

I laughed and then winced, "Promise you'll visit me when I'm on house arrest."

"I'd do that even without promising."

"Okay."

My mom immediately started protesting that it wouldn't be house arrest because I'd be treated like a king and my father laughed and said that I was spoiled while Will absent-mindedly wound strands of my hair through his fingers, dropping in teasing comments here and there. I almost started crying right then, because I was loved so much more than I deserved.

**-**

It turned out that I really could have gone back to school if I wanted to, but of course, I didn't. School was the last place I wanted to be. I wasn't very happy with my current situation either, which was being confined to my bed and getting scolded every time I tried to leave my room.

I sighed, throwing off my covers and going to study myself in the mirror for the umpteenth time that day. It was a little unbelievable that Percy had done all of this to me. Well, most of it, there were still the injuries whose cause I couldn't place (like the cut on my left hand, which wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but was still bandaged to keep out infection). I touched the stitching running through my head gingerly, remembering the sound of my shirt ripping. For a moment I imagined it would sound the same way, if I tore through them right then, let the blood run down my face and drip onto the hardwood.

I dropped my hand to my side, the flesh around the stitches was an ugly bluish green color along with the skin over my cheekbone. The two bruises ran together like a marker drawing done by a child who'd pressed down too hard on the paper. I had scrapes over different places on that side of my face while my other cheek was faintly bruised; that's how hard he'd slapped me, and my lip was split, but I wasn't sure exactly when that had happened. I knew that underneath my clothes, both of my shoulders were different shades of discoloration along with my right hip and ankle. I had other bruises over my back and chest, and a few scattered over my arms and legs. The few weeks I'd had to heal had quickly been reversed.

A soft series of knocks sounded at the door and I turned and leaped into bed, grunting and dragging the covers over me. I leaned back against my headboard like I'd been there all day. . . which wasn't too far from the truth. I didn't want to be lectured about my health again.

"Yeah?" I called.

"It's Will."

"Will!" I exclaimed happily, and then mentally kicked myself. "Yeah, come in."

Will opened the door, grinning. "Happy to see me?"

I rolled my eyes, "I'm happy to see anyone who's not yelling at me every time I put a toe out of bed," I paused to narrow my eyes at him, "Don't you start either."

My friend laughed, closing the door behind him and coming to sit on the edge of my bed. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you at the hospital yesterday," he said sincerely.

I shook my head, "It's okay, Will, I know you have a life."

Will sighed, "Yeah, but I promised I'd come see you, and you must have been bored just lying there."

"What does it look like I'm doing now? And you promised to come visit me here, not at the hospital, so technically, you didn't go against your word."

"Good point," he said, moving across the bed to sit next to me. He paused a moment before he settled down completely. "Is this okay?"

I looked at him quizzically, "Yeah."

Will relaxed against the headboard, his shoulder barely touching mine, his head leaned back so his neck arched and his Adam's apple poked out. The shadows from the window played over his face, hollowing out his cheeks and making his skin shine. His eyes shuttered closed, their lashes resting against his cheeks, looking like shadows themselves.

"Wait!" I said, and his brilliant eyes flew open and landed on my face.

I shook my head, "Go back to how you were before," I insisted.

Will gave me a questioning look, but complied, and I pushed off the covers excitedly and raced over to my desk. I pulled out my art supplies and dragged the rolly chair across the huge raven rug and plopped down into it, selecting a 2H pencil to start out the first lines.

Will peeked out of the corner of his eye and then went back to looking peaceful after I glared at him, "Didn't you already draw me?" but I saw the smile flicker over his face.

"I haven't been able to get you right yet," I explained, glancing back and forth from Will to my paper in order to get the correct angle for his jaw. "How long do you think you can stay like that?"

"Can you put some music on? Preferably something calming."

"Screamo it is." I joked, setting my things aside to walk over to my CD case. I turned it slowly until my eyes fell on _A Lesson In Romantics_ by Mayday Parade. "This is probably one of the most laid back bands in here. . ." I said, setting it in the player carefully and hitting 'Play.'

"Okay."

I set back to work immediately, tucking my legs underneath me, tracing lines and switching pencils when I needed to, erasing and blending and bobbing my head in time to the music. After a while I kind of got lost in my work, I forgot Will was right there in front of me, relying solely on the picture I'd taken in my head of a perfect moment.

I stopped my pencil in the middle of drawing the soft curls of his hair, alive with sunlight. I was hunched over my paper, my nose just a couple of inches from the sheet. I looked up and straightened out my back as fast as I could, and Will quickly looked away, a faint brush of pink highlighting his cheeks for a moment as he resumed the position I'd put him in.

I laughed quietly, and then kept drawing, "I'm almost done." I told him.

"Okay," Will replied.

I added a few more finishing touches, erasing a few lines and blending things a little better, and then I pulled back to study my work. I bit my lip on the side that wasn't split, "I think I almost did it this time. . ."

Will sat up, his eyes bright. "Are you done?"

I nodded and climbed off the chair and onto the bed in front of him. He took the drawing from me and his eyes widened, "Wow. . ." he whispered, almost reverently, "What. . . What did you mean by 'almost?'"

I shook my head, "I don't know. . . I just feel like it's not exactly. . . right."

Will let his eyes scan over the picture again, shaking his head in wonder. "Nico, this is absolutely amazing."

I squirmed, blushing, "Thanks. . . I just. . . I don't know, there's something about you that I can't quite get right on paper, you know?"

Will's lip twitched, and he stared at the paper for a second longer before he lifted his eyes back up to mine.

"You look. . . sad." I told him after a second.

"I. . ." he hesitated, his expression wavered on the brink of something I couldn't quite out my finger on, "I can't believe someone would do this to you."

He reached out like he was going to touch my face, and then changed his mind at the last second and dropped it. My eyes followed its decent with confusion and then snapped back up to his face as it hit the mattress.

"Things like this happen all the time." I shrugged, "At least it was me and not some helpless old lady."

He laughed quietly, "That's one way of looking at it."

"Are you okay, Will?"

"As good as I'll ever be."

I scooted over and curled up next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder, and Will jumped in surprise. I looked up at him, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah." he told me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, closing my eyes to ward away the ache throbbing through my head.

I felt his muscles clenching beneath me, heard the heavy sigh that pulled it's way from his lips. "I'm just worried about you."

"I don't think that's the whole story, Solace, but you can tell me as much or as little as you want."

He didn't speak for a long time after that, and my headache was completely gone before he apologized and announced that he had to get back for lunch. I pulled away from him and then dragged the blankets up to my chin to compensate for the loss of his body heat. I almost told him he could just stay and eat lunch here, but I knew he that he was just using that excuse to escape, and I'd only make him feel trapped.

**-**

After another day of laying in bed, doing homework, and generally being bored, my mom had finally decided that I could get up and walk around a bit, so Will came by and we decided to go to the lake since it wasn't too far away. My mom only agreed to let us go after Will promised that he would make me sit down if I so much as looked slightly off.

Unfortunately, he held true to his word and me stop at least ten times on the way there, and only once was it reasonable (he'd actually had to catch me because I got super dizzy all of the sudden, but then he'd acted all weird about it and apologized and then he helped me sit down). He wouldn't admit it, but I was almost positive he was just doing it because he thought it was funny to make me mad.

Now we were sitting by the lake, the same place we always did when we went there, on a small ledge that jutted out over the water.

"Are you feeling okay?" Will asked, reaching out and brushing aside my hair to feel my forehead like I might have suddenly broken out into a fever during the walk there. He pulled his hand away quickly as if I _had_ broken out into a fever that was so searingly hot it burned him. He'd been doing all of the time recently, jerking away from me and looking mildly uncomfortable all of the time, like I put him on edge, and it was really beginning to bother me. I sat, staring at his hand, trying to think of some way of bringing it up to him, for apparently too long, because Will waved his hand in front of my face, "Hey, Neeks? Nico, you in there?"

"Huh?" I said, starting and looking up at him, "O-oh, yeah, I'm fine. I mean, I feel fine," I said, by way of answering his previous question.

He nodded, and then sat there, still seeming ill at ease. I reached out tentatively and touched his arm. It jerked slightly, just like I'd been expecting it to, and I frowned.

"Will. . ."

He raised his eyebrows, a silent question.

"You-- you've been acting weird," I explained quietly, shifting on my knees awkwardly.

Will opened his mouth to reply, but I continued before he could. "And I think I know why. . ." I told him, holding his gaze.

His eyes widened, and his lips formed a couple of soundless words before he finally squeaked, "What?"

"Look, I know you're gay, and I know that you know that I know. . ." I took a moment to be embarrassed about how stupid I sounded, "But I don't care, okay? You're still the same guy, and I know you don't like every guy you meet, and I know that you definitely don't like me." I gave him an amused smile, "You'd have to be pretty stupid too." Will was still staring at me like I was a fish that had just dragged itself out of the lake and grown legs, so I plowed on. "I just. . . You seem to be really nervous around me and I don't want you to be nervous. . ." I leaned forward on a whim, resting my forehead against his, sitting there for a second and looking into his eyes, letting him see the truth in mine, "I trust you, okay?"

I was honestly surprised that his eyes hadn't popped out of his head at that point, and I blushed, pulling back, "Sorry." I mumbled.

Will cleared his throat, looking away with a similar blush to mine spreading across his cheeks. "Uh. . . You're fine."

"Okay. . . but I just want you to know that things don't have to be any different than they were before. You're still Will, and I'm still Nico, and you're still my best friend."

Will grinned widely after a second, apparently recovering smoothly from his flustered state. "Promoted straight from tolerated to best friend, I'd say that's pretty good."

I shook my head, "Just from friend to best friend. Remember? We became friends when you got me out of that dinner."

_"Right_. How could I have forgotten?"

I rolled my eyes, "You should try harder to remember these things, or I'll have to reconsider my decision."

"No! _Please_ , Nico, I don't know what I would do without your _marvelous_ friendship!"

"Hey! My friendship is marvelous, so try not to sound so sarcastic."

Will smiled easily, and I smiled back, and things finally seemed to fall back into place after weeks of discord.

**-**

"Y'see, it's all a matter of technique." Leo was saying.

I was still a bit annoyed that Will (who was currently laughing so hard at what the Latino was saying that he was choking) had brought him over to my house, but to be fair, the guy was actually pretty funny. Just in a way that would be highly offensive if you didn't get his sense of humor. . . and even sometimes if you did. The guy was unpredictable, which was welcome after the boring (but safe) couple of weeks I'd spent in my house, both breaking up the melancholy and serving as a distraction from the fact that I'd be going back to school on Monday. Like, right then he was teaching us the art of fingering, which wasn't a conversation one normally had in a strictly Catholic household for all the world to hear. . . or at all.

We were all in my living room; Will was sprawled out over the white sofa, I was curled up in a chair next to it, trying to focus on the homework piled in my lap, and failing, and Leo was standing in front of us, talking loudly with elaborate hand gestures.

"See, three is just the right number." He held up three fingers, like he was doing a Hunger-Games-salute, "You've got to stick your fingers deep--" he cut himself off, seeing my horrified face, his expression went through confusion, probably because I had been laughing at his crude jokes the whole time up until this point, horror, most likely because he realized that I wasn't looking at him, but staring straight over his shoulder, and then snapped back to neutral as he whipped around to face my father, who was standing in the archway. "DEEP IN THE BIBLE!" he yelled, turning his fingers downward and jamming them into the palm of his other hand, which in my opinion, really didn't help the situation at all. _"Y'ALL NEED JESUS!"_

Hades stood there for a second, looking completely bewildered, and I was about to launch into a lengthy apology when his lips started twitching, and then he clasped a hand over his mouth and backed out of the room.

At this point, Will was laughing so hard that he'd actually fallen off of the couch and hit his head on the coffee table, which resulted in him clutching his skull while simultaneously shaking with mirth and looking quite pained. The combination was actually hilarious, as he kind of looked like he was having a mild seizure. I completely forgot about my dad (who was probably in the next room saying every prayer there was from every religion known to mankind), for the sake of laughing at Will's unfortunate circumstance.

"Will. . ." I wheezed as he sat up, leaning back against the couch and still laughing, "are you okay?"

He nodded, chortling, "I think I'm going to have a bruise."

For some reason, we all found that absolutely hilarious, and the three of us spent the next five minutes dying of laughter, until I proposed that we go up to my room ("Oh, so you're into _that_ kind of stuff. . . Hey, I don't judge. Everyone's got their weird little kinks." Leo had said, and then he'd winked in a very suggestive way, and Will had cracked up all over again) so my dad wouldn't hear anything else he didn't want to.

I walked in and plopped down on my bed, leaning back against the headboard without even stopping to think about the fact that Leo had never been in my room before. I guess it should have occurred to me since this was the first time he'd ever been in my _house_ , but it didn't.

Leo took a couple of paces over the threshold, turned in a slow circle in the middle of the plush black rug, and then turned to look at Will, who was stretched out across my ebony comforter. "I can't say that I'm surprised."

Will laughed heartily, and I glared at both of them, "What? You're not surprised about what?"

"Your room," Leo stated flatly, crossing the mahogany floorboards to plunk himself down in my office chair.

My gloomy expression grew even darker, "What about it?" I asked tightly.

Leo shrugged, "It reflects your sunny personality quite well." He and Will exchanged a knowing glance.

I huffed angrily and set back to doing my homework, pressing down with my pencil more than was actually necessary. "Good."

**-**

"We haven't been to see Hollie for a while." Will pointed out, kicking at the leaves piled along the edge of the sidewalk, their bright colors broadcasted proudly that it was truly Autumn. A cool breeze swept past, taking a couple of them with it and reminding me that in a few months time we'd be trudging through snow.

I nodded, needlessly verifying the fact. It had been at least two weeks since we'd last seen her. "We should stop by."

"Who's Hollie?" Leo, who seemed to be spending more and more time with us, asked, sounding utterly exasperated.

"Our friend," Will stated, at the same time that I deadpanned, "She works at a music shop."

"And it's so important that you go and see her _because. . .?"_

I shrugged noncommittally, shoving my hands in my pockets and turning to face him, as everyone seemed to be stopping now. "It's not that it's a big deal. . . it's just kind of something that we. . ." I glanced over at Will. Honestly, I wasn't exactly why we kept going back to see Hollie either; I mean, sure, she was nice and all, and we'd become friends over the last couple of months, but it wasn't like it was something we'd _had_ to do.

"Normally do." Will finished my sentence, "And plus, we don't really need a reason to visit a friend, do we?"

"Guess not." Leo agreed, and we continued on our way.

**-**

Today Hollie was going for a more laid back style that consisted of jeans so torn up that they were actually more holes than they were material, a deep green leather jacket over a tank top sporting the Avenged Sevenfold logo, a pair of beat-up black combat boots, and more necklaces and bracelets than I could count.

She grinned at us as we walked in, pushing aside her college text book to slip off her stool and greet us. "You two haven't been in here in forever," she pointed out, her eyes flitting over to Leo and then to Will questioningly.

"This is Leo Valdez, he's our friend," Will explained laying a bit of stress on the word 'friend,' to which Hollie nodded shortly. I snorted softly as I realized what she'd been asking, the idea of Leo dating Will was not only disturbing but also completely unfathomable. "Leo, this is Hollie."

"A pleasure to meet you, fair lady," Leo said, taking the hand Hollie had intended for a handshake and kissing it. "You can call me Hot Stuff, or Bad Boy Supreme, whichever you prefer."

Hollie pulled her hand away uncomfortably and wiped it on her jeans as subtly as possible. "I think I'll just stick with Leo," she informed him, taking a step back.

Leo shrugged, "It was worth a try," he amended, already starting away from the rest of us to examine the memorabilia dominating the walls.

"Is he always like that?" she wondered, watching him leave with a certain amount of distaste.

Will laughed briefly, "You'll get used it, he isn't all bad."

"Yeah, but he's definitely no walk in the park." I pointed out, glaring after my annoying friend.

"Hey, you're not all sunshine and butterflies either, Death Boy," Will shot back teasingly and I gave him a wolfish grin, "I should hope not."

"By the way, I still need to get you to wear something other than black."

"How was that a 'by the way' statement? We weren't talking about anything remotely close to that!" I sputtered.

"Actually, it made perfect sense, you just don't want me to give you a makeover," he stated smugly. This was a topic we'd been arguing over for the past couple of weeks, and it was getting really old really fast.

"Ooh, a makeover?" Hollie interjected, positively beaming, "Neeks, I could make you look like you belong on the cover of a magazine."

"Only Will calls me Neeks," I retaliated grumpily. "And I don't want to look like some dumb model anyway."

She sighed, "You're no fun, you know that?"

"You let my sister dress you up." He gave me his best puppy-dog face, which, for the record, no human should be subjected to.

I glared at him. "Don't give me that face, Solace. I am _not_ letting you give me a makeover, end of story."

Will smiled at me knowingly and leaned forward so that I could feel his breath against my ear, "We'll see about that." he whispered and then pulled away, his eyes narrowing in a challenge.

I gulped, suddenly thrown off balance for no reason that I could decipher. "W-whatever, Will," I sounded a whole lot less confident than I'd intended, and the light blush dusting my cheeks wasn't helping anything either.

Will just laughed and strode over to join Leo, smirking like he'd just won the lottery or something. I stood there for a good ten seconds, staring after him in bewilderment until I realized that Hollie was studying me, her brow crinkled and her head tilted to the side like I was some huge mystery. I managed to turn even more red and then shuffled off hurriedly in the opposite direction Will and Leo had gone. I hid in the R&B section, trying to sort out my emotions or maybe even focus on _something_ else until Will found my hiding place and informed me that we had to go and I couldn't help but think that he looked altogether much too pleased with himself.


	8. Our Face Is Just a Show

The swing had obviously been hanging from its tree for quite some time, the thick rope that kept it there had cut deep gouges in the bark over years of constant friction, but the sturdy hickory branch that was holding it up was far from breaking. In fact, the rope was at a higher risk of snapping, as it showed obvious signs of weathering in various locations. I couldn't help but think that the little hunk of wood looked a bit desolate, just swaying back and forth beneath the nearly barren tree the way it was.

My attention was jerked away from the lonely make-shift swing by strong but gentle fingers under my chin, "Have you even been listening to a _word_ I've been saying?" Will asked, noticeably trying to keep his frustration under control.

I dropped my eyes away from his as soon as he let go of my face, the truth of the matter was that I hadn't been, and it wasn't on accident either. I didn't even want to _look_ at Will because he made me feel like an open book, and I couldn't afford to be open.

"Nico, there's something bothering you, and I'll bet it has something to do with the bruise on your jaw. Don't feed me that crap about being clumsy either, because I'm not buying it."

"Will," I pleaded, and then I forced myself to drag my gaze back upwards again. "I'm telling the truth."

It hurt so much to look him in the eye and lie to him like that, especially when he was looking at me like that. Like he just wanted me to be okay. Like he wanted to help make me okay. I wasn't okay, though, and I didn't believe that Will could do anything to help. I thought I was doing what I had to.

_"Nico,"_ he whispered desperately as my eyes slipped off to the side, focusing on the little swing across the street again. Anything to keep my eyes off his. "You can tell me anything."

I found myself remembering the conversation that had won me the bruise Will was so intent on. Percy had been acting off lately, instead of walking around like he was the king of the world, he seemed withdrawn and sad, and the dark circles under his eyes never seemed to go away.

I told myself that it didn't matter, that I had no reason to worry over him when he was nothing but horrible to me, but the truth was that I couldn't help but be bothered by it. Maybe it was the words that kept echoing through my head every time I saw him: _She didn't deserve it._ It was the phrase Percy had screamed right before he smashed my head into the school. I hadn't been able to remember it at first, it had danced just out of sight, at the edge of my subconscious, taunting me, and now that I had it I just wanted it to go away. I wanted to stop caring.

I couldn't though, and it was that fact that had made me stupid enough to go up and confront the _stronzo_ about it.

_I sped up, dodging past people in_ _order_ _to catch up to him and caught him by the shoulder. Percy turned his head to look at me, then wheeled completely around as he saw who it was. "Don't touch me,_ _scumbag," he sneered, smacking my hand away._

_I glared at him, "What's your deal?" I snapped. I knew the situation was already taking a turn for the worse, but there wasn't much_ _I_ _could do about it now, except try to be civil, so I took in a calming breath and continued in a less aggravated tone, "You've been acting weird."_

_Percy's_ _jaw clenched, but I didn't miss how his eyes widened momentarily_ _before_ _becoming_ _cold again. "What does it matter to you?"_

_I hesitated for a few_ _long_ _moments, I honestly had no idea. "I don't know. . . but you should probably talk to someone about it."_

_Percy laughed mockingly,_ "Talk to someone? Talk _to someone? Who, Nico?" he sneered, "Should I go crying about it to my friends like you do? Yeah, I bet you think that's a_ great _idea." he was advancing on me now, forcing me to back up. "That would_ _just_ _solve_ everything, _wouldn't it? My problems would just_ _vanish_ _because_ _I_ _moped about them to some poor soul?" He shoved me, "Bullshit, di Angelo._ Bullshit."

_"Yeah, well, it would be a Hell_ _of a lot better than taking everything out on me, you asshole." I snarled, and you can probably guess what happened next._

"At least tell me something. Anything, Neeks. It can be _anything."_ Will begged.

I closed my eyes, readjusting my backpack on my shoulders, "Okay." I heard his sharp intake of breath and I knew that he thought I was going to tell him everything right there. "I'm fine, Will. I'm better than fine." I looked at him again and found nothing but deep sadness. _"Will._ I really am, and I want you to stop worrying about me, you don't have to worry. I really am okay, and I'm grateful that you're my friend, I honestly don't know how I survived being so lonely before. . ." I sighed, rolling my eyes and smiling a little for effect, not all of the words I was saying were lies, but my outward emotions were completely false now. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's more than enough for you just to be my friend. You don't have to keep running so many extra miles for me."

I could tell he wasn't buying it, but he nodded reluctantly after a second, probably realizing that he was never going to get it out of me. "Okay, Nico," he relented. "Let's go home."

**-**

_She didn't deserve it._

I flopped onto my back, my eyes snapping open, searching out my alarm clock and discovering that it was almost two A.M. I kicked my covers off, pushing them down to where Mrs. O'Leary was curled up on the foot of my bed, rolling onto my stomach. I was too hot, too restless. _Too exhausted._ I couldn't fall asleep, though. I rolled onto my side, curling up in a ball, sighed, and flopped onto my back again.

_She didn't deserve it._ What did that mean? Who was _she?_ What didn't she deserve? _Why do I care so much?_

"I don't," I told myself, reaching up and touching the bruise on my jaw gingerly, reminding myself why I shouldn't.

My feet were getting cold now, so I pushed them under the blanket that was shoved to the end my bed, tangling them up in it. _I need to stop thinking._ I clenched my eyes shut, took in a gulp of oxygen, released it again. _Don't think too much, can't think too much. Don't get anxious, can't get anxious. I'm okay. I can be okay._

It wasn't working. I wasn't calming down. _I'm not fine._

I pushed the covers off of my feet and rolled on my stomach again to sit up on my knees facing my window, and then pushed the curtains aside, revealing an array of random items spilled over the surface of my window sill. Among them was my latest silver Sharpie; I picked it up, uncapped it, and proceeded to scribble over the wall that jutted in to form the small, cluttered ledge.

_She didn't deserve it. Who? What? Why do I care? I don't want to care. I want to forget. It's stupid. He hates me,_ _I_ _hate him. I shouldn't care._

It usually helped to get my thoughts out in front of me, to face them head-on, but now, staring at my worries, I just felt even more stupid.

I sighed, taking the pen to the wall again.

_Things I should care about:_   
_• myself_   
_• my family_   
_• Mrs. O'Leary_   
_• drawing_   
_• books_   
_• school_   
_• Will_

_Will._ I shoved aside a few things on the sill to grab my new phone, which was an exact replica of my old one. My parents had offered to get me a better one, but I'd declined, all I needed was to be able to contact people, nothing more. It was what I needed right then, to spew thoughts at another human being.

_You're most likely not awake._ I typed, _But I am. I don't really know why, but I can't fall asleep, so I'm just going to text you, even though you won't see_ _this_ _until morning. It's something to do._

I sent the first message and started typing the next right away.

_I don't really get my head, Will. That sounds stupid, but I don't. My_ _thoughts_ _are all screwed up and they're keeping me awake and I just really_ _want_ _to sleep._

Send. I laid down and curled up on my side, and then continued.

_I kind of just want_ _them_ _to go away. My thoughts, I mean. I'd_ _be a_ _lot happier if I didn't do so much thinking._

Send.

_I really hope your phone is on silent, Will._

Send.

_This is stupid._

Send.

_I don't really care._

Send.

_Why are you even my friend, Will?_

Send.

_Don't answer that._

Send.

_It's kind of lonely being awake in the middle of the night._

Send.

_I'm so tired, Will. I just want to sleep. My brain won't shut down._

Send.

_Maybe it would help if I didn't have a screen shining in my face._

Send.

_I don't want to stop texting you, though._

Send.

_I've heard that the government keeps tabs on our cell phones. Like, they can read our texts and listen to our calls_ _and_ _stuff. Something about preventing terrorists or something._

Send.

_Anyway, if that's true then they must think I'm a complete dweeb._

Send.

_I am a complete dweeb._

Send.

_You're not, though. You're good at talking to people and you're_ _funny_ _and_ _it_ _you make it seem easy. But it's not. Not for me. Not unless I'm around you. I think having someone_ _familiar_ _around makes it a lot less daunting._

Send.

_Dio. I just want--_

My phone buzzed, and I jumped in surprise, which, because of my position, was really just an awkward jerk of my whole body that caused me to hit myself in the face with my phone.

_Two_ _new messages from Dickhead._ I laughed a little, partially because I just been scared by my phone buzzing, which was a completely normal thing for a phone to do, and partially because I'd forgotten that I'd changed his contact name to that.

I opened the texts in quick succession.

_My phone wasn't on silent, Nico._

_How in the world do you type so fast on that thing?_

I smirked and little, feeling both parts guilty for waking him up, and a little glad that he was, in fact, up. _Sorry. And it's just pra_

My phone vibrated again, and a notification popped up, filling the whole screen and interrupting my typing. _One new message from Dickhead._

_Hold on._

My face scrunched in confusion. I erased my earlier message and replaced it with _What?_ but I didn't get an answer.

Five minutes later, when I was staring at my ceiling and trying to decipher pictures from the random, blotchy patterns in the plaster, trying to distract myself, my window suddenly jerked open and I nearly had a heart attack, yelping and toppling off of my bed. No wonder Mrs. O'Leary had been acting so weird. I groaned and swore under my breath, glaring up at nothing as Will laughed heartily, sliding the window closed.

His face appeared over the edge of my bed, and I had to bite my lip to stifle a laugh of my own. His hair was an absolute mess, pressed flat on one side and sticking up at all sorts of odd angles on the other.

He grinned, propping his head up on his hand, "How's the weather down there?"

"Pretty good." I answered, tucking my hands behind much head casually, "Windy up there, I assume?"

"No, not really. Why?"

"Because that's the only thing I can think of that would give someone _that_ hair," I said, grinning at him mischievously.

Will glared at me playfully, "At least I don't shriek like a little girl when I'm scared," he retorted, disappearing over the mattress.

I pulled myself to my feet in order to glare back at him, "I did _not_ shri--"

"You did." He settled back against my headboard, looking quite pleased with himself.

I climbed onto the bed, smiling. "Okay, maybe I did, but you can't really blame me."

"Fair enough." he said, patting the space next to him, "Come here."

I obliged, grabbing the blanket along the way and draping it over both of us as I sat next to him. "Why did you decide to drop by, again?" I asked, reaching out in an attempt to calm his unruly hair into a slightly more acceptable style.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," he told me, grinning as I combed my fingers through his hair. "You know, it's just going to get messed up again when I sleep on it."

I laughed, "Yeah, but you look like an idiot. I'm just helping you out."

He rolled his eyes, "Geez, thanks, Neeks."

I mimed tipping an imaginary hat, "Much obliged, Mr. Solace."

"Have you slept at all tonight, Nico?" he asked, examining me worriedly.

I sighed, twisting a piece of his hair around my finger, "I haven't slept very well for a while, but tonight I haven't been able to sleep at all."

"Lay down, you're not going to be able to fall asleep sitting up like this," Will ordered, his face bending into a concerned frown.

I felt my smile flicker for a second and dropped the strand of hair I'd been playing with, "Are you leaving?"

He shook his head, "No, I'm staying right here. Now lay down before I make you."

I grinned at him and shifted into a horizontal position, "Yes, Doctor Solace."

"I actually want to become a doctor," he mused, moving to close the curtains.

"Really?" I asked, my eyes following him as he crawled over and laid down in front of me, pulling my blanket up to his chin.

He nodded, smiling, "I've kind of always wanted to be a doctor. Something about the human body fascinates me, you know?"

I wiggled my eyebrows at him suggestively, "Oh, I'll bet it does."

He laughed, "Shut up. You know what I meant."

"I know." I sat there, just looking at him for a second, "I think you'd be really good at it."

His eyebrows shot up, his expression was full of hope and excitement, like a little kid on Christmas morning. "You really think so?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "You love helping people and you're good with kids and your smart. . . there's only one problem."

Will's brow furrowed quizzically.

"Your handwriting is too nice," I told him, and Will burst out laughing, shoving my shoulder.

"That is a cruel stereotype, Neeks."

"Maybe, but all stereotypes have a bit of truth in them. Or they did at some point in time." I pointed out shrugging.

Will didn't answer for a few seconds, so I closed my eyes, opening them when I felt his fingers brushing over the scar cutting through my temple. "Nico?"

"Hm?" I asked, realizing that Will had successfully calmed me down without even trying.

"Why did you call _me_ that night?" he asked, scooting closer that our foreheads were nearly touching, "I mean, I had been a jerk to you earlier, and you could have called your parents, but you called me."

I blinked in confusion, I hadn't ever really thought about it before, "I wasn't mad at you, Will. I was the one who'd screwed up."

"I still shouldn't have yelled at you. . . and that doesn't answer my question."

I shifted, frowning. "I just. . . you were the first person that came to mind. . ." I answered truthfully, smiling at the shocked expression on Will's face. "What?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. You should get some sleep."

"Okay," I muttered, already closing my eyes. "Thank you, Will."

"Sweet dreams, Neeks." I wondered vaguely what that undertone of sadness meant, but my mind was already drifting away, and then I was out.

**-**

"Are you sure your parents are okay with us just showing up like this?" I asked, stopping in the middle of Leo's tan cobblestone driveway to look up at his house uncertainly. It turned out that he didn't actually live on Parr, but at the end of a discreet little side road that led away from it. The place itself was a massive, sprawling four-story affair with cream-colored stucco walls adorned with balconies and iron trimming. The roof was flat on most sections, and was made of low-pitched clay tiles, and the entire thing was dominated by the massive red mahogany doors and garages.

"Of course, they will!" he exclaimed, jogging up the steps jovially, "They'll be overjoyed to see you."

"It's _huge."_ Will breathed into my ear as he came up beside me.

I nodded, "You can say that again." I muttered.

The door swung open as we approached the bottom step, and Will and I both stopped in our tracks. Honestly, I was expecting a maid or a butler to be standing there waiting to polish our shoes before we came inside, but instead we were greeted by a large man in his late forties who was sitting there in a wheelchair. He might have been a little younger or a little older than forty, but it was hard to tell through the scarring covering most of his face, marring one side of his mouth so that you could see a few of his teeth even though his lips were firmly closed. He was dark-skinned, with long, frizzy black hair, and one good eye that was a deep brown.

He sat there, seeming to assess us for a moment, and then his face broke into a permanently distorted smile, "Leo, you didn't tell me you were bringing friends." he said, his voice was a deep, slightly gravelly rumble.

Leo shrugged, "It was kind of a last minute decision. Anyway, this is Nico, and that's Will." he informed the man, who I could only assume was his father.

He nodded, "I'm Hephaestus, Leo's dad, it's nice to meet you both." he announced, pulling and pushing his wheels in different directions to turn around, "Come on in."

I couldn't help but stop to admire my surroundings once again as I entered. The whole place had a rustic-type of feel, and yet it still managed to seem modern as well. For some reason, I had never even considered that Leo could have lived in a house any nicer than mine or Will's. He didn't dress in designer clothes or act like a stuck-up rich kid, but this was a whole new level of living altogether.

Hephaestus was already rolling his way out of the room, and Leo was jabbering on, not taking any notice of the expressions on Will and I's faces as he strode across the pearly white tiles and pressed the _up_ button on the elevator (yeah, _elevator_ ) like it was completely normal.

"We got this so my dad could get around after his accident, but there's no reason we should have to suffer through walking up the stairs, right?"

"Right," Will croaked, his eyes wide, and then cleared his throat awkwardly, "I think I'm coming down with a cold. . ."

I rolled my eyes at him, smiling, and he threw a grin my way, dropping a wink along with it before he turned and stepped into the elevator after Leo, closely followed by me. It wasn't some big, eye-opening experience, just your everyday elevator ride. You know, jumping at just the right moment so that you got that sense of zero gravity when the contraption starts moving, and then standing awkwardly waiting to get to the next floor and wondering what would happen if you pushed the little red alarm button, but I couldn't help but feel like I was completely out of place, especially as he led us through the beautiful hallways of his home on the way to his bedroom.

And his room was, apparently, the only one in the house that was above the fourth level, and it was bigger than mine and Will's combined, stretching over an entire section of the estate. At first, I'd thought he'd led us into some sort of workshop. Two rows of shelves divided the room in half, nearly overflowing with miscellaneous junk and power tools and extending across the entire length of the room except for a small portion that allowed access into the other half. Every bare inch of wall seemed to be housing some sort of tool or blueprint, and a large work table dominated the center of the floor, housing a couple of Leo's latest projects. Off to one side were a couple of large machines whose purposes completely evaded me, but what was really remarkable about the place was the ceiling; contraptions of every kind hung down from the soaring rafters, from working chandeliers to mechanisms of Leo's own creation, to license plates and street signs.

I found myself staring up with my mouth hanging open as we dodged past boxes and machinery to cross into the second section of his quarters. The floors shifted from wood to plush, dark grey carpets, the walls went from plain white to an alarming shade of orange (except the whole right wall, which, on this side, was one huge window that tilted inwards), and the ceiling became a giant collage of photos and sketches and notes. This half was a lot more ordinary, though, consisting of a large, metal bunk bed with a desk and shelves underneath (it kind of looked like the Latino had welded together a bunch of random spare parts and called it good) in the top left corner and a white wardrobe in the top right corner next to a leather couch of the same color.

My favorite feature, though, was the fish tank tucked into the shelf. It was a pretty good size, and some of the shelving had been taken out to accommodate for it. Fish of all sorts of different kinds swam through a mini model of a post-apocalyptic city, complete with soaring skyscrapers, little delis and laundromats, streets, streetlights, and trees. . . it was _unbelievably_ detailed, to say the least.

"This is. . ." Will whispered, looking around at everything in awe. He turned to face our friend, "You didn't tell us you're filthy rich!"

Leo shrugged, grinning elfishly, "It never came up as a topic of conversation."

"Did you make all of this yourself?" I asked, after letting Will take a moment to regard him with exasperation, running a hand along one of the supports of his bed.

He shook his head, "I wish. My dad helped. He taught me everything I know."

"It's still amazing. . ." I said, looking around again.

"Yeah," Will agreed, "You and your dad are really talented."

"Why, thank you," Leo replied cockily, plopping down onto the sofa.

"And humble too," I amended dryly.

"Yes, I'd like like to think that's one of my best qualities."

"If that's one of your best than you don't got many," I joked, and Leo grinned.

"Hey, I must be alright or you wouldn't still be hanging around me." he retorted.

_"You'r_ e the one who's been hanging around _me,"_ I corrected.

Leo snorted contemptuously, "Only because you seem to like me so much."

"Yeah, whatever, Valdez."

"Hey, Neeks."

I turned around to look at Will, who was crouched down in front of Leo's bed behind me, looking at the stuff crammed into the shelves there. "Hm?"

"Leo and you have the same music taste."

"What?" My eyebrows shot up and I made my way to his side, hearing Leo as he followed behind me. Will was right, I knew most of the bands on the CDs in Leo's shelves. It wasn't every day you found a person who hoarded CDs like I did, what with MP3 players and iPhones and all, which was probably why Vinylust was usually so empty.

I turned to face the elfish boy, "I never took you to be a rock kind of guy."

Leo shrugged, "You never took me to be a rich kid either. You can't tell everything about a person just by looking at them." He paused, looking at me meaningfully, "You should know."

Will's brow creased and a muscle in his face twitched, his eyes darting between the two of us. I was glaring at the Latino, and Leo was glaring right back, _Tell him._ I shook my head, a small, barely noticeable gesture. Leo rolled his eyes, seeming to give up, but Will wasn't backing down that easily. There were questions to be answered, and he wasn't going to let them remain a mystery.

"Nico, what's he talking about?" I felt his eyes flicker from my temple to my jaw, pinpointing my imperfections quizzically like he was studying a specimen in a lab.

I shot Leo one more look before I turned to face Will, sighing. "It's nothing, Will."

"You seem to say that a lot, 'It's nothing.' When is it going to be something, Nico? Why don't you trust me?" I almost thought he was joking. _Not trusting Will?_ The idea was absurd, but looking into his eyes, I knew he was completely serious.

I gaped at him, "What? _Will,_ I do trust you."

"It doesn't seem like it, Nico. You obviously told Leo something, and for some reason, you won't even tell me. I'm your best friend, I just want to help."

I shook my head, "Will, I didn't tell Leo anything, he's just being dumb."

"Hey!" Leo protested, but neither of us paid him any attention.

"Then what was he talking about? It obviously meant something to you."

I gritted my teeth, clenching my hands into fists, my heart was beating faster. _Don't force me into this. Oh_ , Dio, _don't force me into this._ "Will, _please."_

"Please, what, Nico?"

I was close to tears, but there was no way I was going to let either of the people in that room know that. Looking at the ground taking a deep breath, I forced out, "I just. . . I don't. . . I don't want you to look at me differently, Will." I was being completely honest, I didn't want Will to see me as some sort of victim, but of course, that wasn't the whole reason. I never gave anyone the whole truth. Except Mrs. O'Leary. She couldn't spread the information, she probably didn't even understand me. She was a safe outlet, Will was not.

I knew he was staring at me, I felt the questions buzzing in the air as the silence stretched out far too long. I knew he was probably looking at me with soft concern, a furrow between his eyebrows. In my mind's eye, I could picture the set of his shoulders perfectly, the way his folded arms were probably tensed up.

"It sickens me how much you two say each other's names," Leo chided, trying to sound light-hearted, to break the awkward tension. "You sound like a couple of. . . Just like a lovesick couple."

I looked up and found that Will was still staring at me, our eyes met and he gave me a small nod, apologizing, saying he understood, that I didn't have to tell him anything I didn't want to, all with one simple gesture. I thought I was imagining it, you couldn't tell that much from a tiny movement of the head. The moment was there, and then it was gone, and Will was laughing easily, making a joke, touching my back comfortingly when he noticed that I still looked sad.

Later, when Will and I were leaving, he stopped me when we were a good distance from the house, holding me by the shoulders, and said all of the things I'd seen in that little gesture and more, and then he'd hugged me tightly, and we stood like that for a while. I don't know if he realized that I was crying, but he didn't say anything about it, he just rubbed my back, and then he let go without protesting when I pulled away, and we kept walking, falling back into our usual routine of teasing and laughing and just talking. It was almost like he could see inside my head, like he knew exactly what I needed without me telling him; he knew what I needed better than I did a lot of the time.

**-**

My mind eased into materiality and I rolled onto my side, groaning. Waking up in the middle of the night topped the list as one of my least favorite events. _Tap, tap, tap._ My eyes fluttered open. _Tap-tap, ta-tap, tap. Tap, tap._ I sat up, there was definitely something outside of my window. My throat tightened, _Or someone._ I swallowed painfully, glancing over at Mrs. O'Leary to find her staring at the window intently, her ears perked. _Oh,_ Dio. _I'm too young to die._

I shook my head and drew back the curtain slowly, then immediately rolled my eyes. Will gestured for me to open the window and I complied.

"I couldn't sleep." he explained as he clamored in, trying to be quiet but failing as his long limbs and backpack knocked against the window. He greeted my dog, who was apparently overjoyed to see him, scratching her behind the ears, and the turned to me. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the lake with me."

I balked at him, glancing at my alarm clock, "It's one AM!"

Will nodded enthusiastically, "It'll be fun!"

"Why do people always say that? 'I don't want to go to the store' 'Oh, come _on,_ it'll be fun!' 'We're getting your teeth pulled-- _Oh, come on!_ It'll be _fun!'"_

Will regarded me with his eyebrows raised, "You really need to stop being so optimistic all of the time. Spending time with me is _much_ worse than getting your teeth pulled."

I grinned, shoving him playfully. Will let himself fall back onto my bed, laughing, his hair spread out around his face like sun rays. He looked up at me, tugging on the hem of my t-shirt like a little kid, I was suddenly extremely grateful that I hadn't decided to sleep in nothing but boxers tonight, not because I was embarrassed about Will seeing me, but because I was terrified of it. My bruises were my second biggest plot twist. "Please come with me. It'll be boring without you."

I sighed, "Fine. I couldn't sleep knowing you were deprived of my presence."

Will huffed, "Other way around, Neeks. Get your bathing suit on."

I laughed, "Okay, turn around."

He turned so he was face-down on the bed and said something that was muted by my blankets. I guessed it was some _intelligentone_ comment.

I got into my bathing suit, made sure the number of bruises on my calves wasn't too obscene, grabbed a flashlight, and then climbed onto the bed and flicked Will's ear, "I'm ready."

He glared at me, rubbing his ear, "Ow."

"Payback for waking me up," I said smugly, heading for the door, but Will shook his head.

"We're going out the window." he intoned seriously.

"No, we're not," I replied firmly.

"Fine." Will said, climbing out onto the roof, and then he smiled mischievously, _"RACE YOU TO THE LAKE!"_

He turned and I didn't even hesitate before bolting to the door; I threw it open without even thinking about my sleeping family, leaving Mrs. O'Leary standing uncertainly in the middle of the floor as the door slammed closed, and ran down the stairs and out the front door. By the time I was halfway across the lawn Will was jumping down from the wall and running after me. I picked up my pace, running as fast as my legs would carry me.

I burst through the trees with Will hot on my heels. My flashlight's beam flew widely across the terrain, highlighting random sections of multicolored leaves and forest floor. I didn't turn around, just willed my legs to move faster. Unfortunately, he had legs like a giraffe and was in a lot better shape than me. He passed me up, whooping loudly and laughing, I yelled something at his back that I probably shouldn't repeat and kept running, dodging a low-hanging branch and stumbling in the process.

We reached the crest of the hill and my foot caught on a tree root; I was pitched forward and down the hill, rolling like an abnormally large and awkwardly-shaped soccer ball, and my flashlight was launched off somewhere to my right. I landed on my back at the bottom, all of the breath was sucked from my lungs like I'd just been kicked in the chest. Believe me, I know how it feels.

Will stumbled the rest of the way down the hill and crouched next to me, looking horrified and clutching both of our flashlights, "Are you okay?"

"I won." I croaked, touching my fingers to my bloody nose.

Will laughed, "I'll take that as a yes."

He helped me to my feet and pulled a towel out of his backpack, pressing it to my nose before I could protest. We walked over to our usual spot, sitting there until my nose had stopped expelling every once of blood my heart managed to pump out.

Once Will was positive that my nose wasn't broken and I hadn't suffered any further injuries besides a few scrapes and bruises, he told me to wash my face in the lake while he hung a lantern in a tree. After he'd done that, he joined me at the water's edge, sitting on a large rock that jutted a few feet out over the lake. The water lapped halfway up his shins where it only covered my feet, and he kicked his feet back and forth, leaning back on his hands.

"Nico?" Will said after a moment, staring down into the water.

I looked over at him, smiling a little. "Yeah?"

"Remember when we first met and I told you that I didn't think you were boring because I couldn't figure you out?"

"Yeah. . ." I said, my brows drawing together. Sure, I remembered it, but I couldn't see why Will was bringing it up.

"Well. . ." he said, pausing to kick his foot up, making sparkling drops of water spin upwards and plink back into the lake in a symphony of tiny splashes. "I still haven't figured you out."

I laughed, "What's the big mystery? I'm Nico di Angelo. I'm dark, withdrawn, and generally huge pain in the _culo_ and my best friend is Will Solace."

He finally looked up at me, half of his face shadowed and the other half full of the reflected moonlight off the water, flickering along with the ripples and waves. "I feel like I don't really know you," he said quietly, and then looked down again. "I mean, I know you. . . but I don't _know_ you, you know?"

"I know that you just said, 'know' way too many times."

He punched me in the arm softly, smiling, "Shut up, I'm being serious."

I laughed, "Okay, okay. How about we play a game?" I proposed, looking out across the water. "You ask me a question, and I answer it, simple as that. And if you've figured me out by the end, we both win."

He nodded, "Okay, but if this is a game, I feel like it needs more rules."

"Rules?" I asked doubtfully.

"Rules." he confirmed.

I sighed, "Will, you're asking me questions, don't make this more complicated than it has to be."

"Fine." he relented grudgingly, pulling his feet out of the water and turning to face me, I followed suit. "Okay. . . So, we'll start simple and then work our way up to the more complicated stuff."

I nodded. "'Kay."

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

"Surprise, surprise."

"You said it yourself, I'm a man of mystery."

_"Right._ Okay, favorite book."

"Are you _kidding me?_ I can't choose just one."

"Okay, fair enough. . . Uhm. . . Favorite food?"

_"Gelato."_

"Does that even count as a food?"

"It tastes good, it fills me up when I'm hungry, and it's not lethal." I ticked off on my fingers, "So, yes."

"Technically, if you ate too much of it, it could kill you."

"If you eat too much of anything it can you."

"You're really starting to piss me off."

"Because I'm right and you're wrong?"

He glared at me, "Favorite thing to draw?"

"Nice change of subject. Basically anything. . . but I guess faces are my favorite."

"Why?"

I smiled, "A person's face can tell you more about them than just about anything else about their physical appearance, and I like capturing that."

"That's kind of beautiful."

"The pictures you take are beautiful."

". . . Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He cleared his throat, blushing, and I couldn't help but grin. "Uh. . . Favorite place?"

"Italy." I answered immediately, "The little park by my old house. . ." I sighed sadly, shaking my head, "I miss it."

Will studied me silently for a bit, chewing his lip, which I'd come to realize he did when he was trying to make a decision. "If you and your dad love Italy so much. . . then why did you leave?" he wondered tentatively.

I looked down at my hands and started picking at the grass, tearing it to shreds. My brain was entering in full panic mode, rebuilding walls and setting off every alarm I had in there. "I-- well. . . You saw that picture on my dresser, right?" I began carefully, trying to sound normal.

"Yeah," Will answered quietly.

"That. . . That was my family. My _real_ family." I told him, and then I took a few seconds to work things out in my mess of a brain. "The girl holding my hand is Bianca. . . and the woman standing next to my dad is Maria. My mom."

I forced myself to look up at him and saw that his eyes were full of unanswered questions, like the opposite of a magic eight ball. Shake it up and it gives you a bunch of questions that you'd rather not answer.

"So. . . What. . . What happened?" he asked. He knew he was on slippery ground right then.

"It wasn't. . . I mean. . . It was too painful to stay there." I dragged my hands over my face, letting out a hollow laugh. My fingers were shaking. "I haven't told anyone this before."

"Nico--"

I shook my head. I had enough secrets already. I wanted Will to know this one, I wanted him to finally be able to unravel a piece of me that I had kept buried.

"They died in the fire." I blurted, "My mom and my sister. Bianca was twelve and. . ." My voice trembled and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

"Nico you don't have to--" Will started, moving forward, but I plowed on, afraid that if I paused for even one more second I would lose this sudden surge of confidence, or desperation, or whatever this was. "The firemen were too busy getting me out, the roof collapsed. They didn't get to my family in time. . . I could hear them screaming inside. . ." My chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. "And in the end, the flames burned everything I'd ever known to black, so it just seems fitting that everything I will know should be black too. . ." I turned my face away from him, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and grief at finally sharing the cliché metaphor I'd lived by for so long, the next part came out choked and barely audible, "because no one has ever cared about me like that since then."

I looked up, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, my eyes full of fear for what I would find in Will's, but what I found was such a chaotic whirlpool of emotion that I couldn't distinguish any one of them specifically. He stared into my eyes for a moment before whispering, "I care about you," like it hurt him physically that I hadn't realized it.

Something I'd never felt before crashed through me, splitting my heart open and squeezing my chest, suffocating me, and yet, creating a sense of longing, and fear, and joy, and pain, and relief all rolled into one. A sense of _Oh, this. . . This is it._ Only I wasn't really sure what _it_ was. _This,_ however, was the kind of thing I had read about so many times in so many different ways and it just didn't make sense that I was feeling it after all of this time. Especially not right then, looking at Will. My best friend. I was suddenly painfully aware of how close he was, and then the distance seemed like entire oceans. Oceans that I would do anything to get across.

My eyes skimmed down Will's face, grazing his cheekbones and across his jawline and eventually resting on his lips. It was like I was seeing him in a completely different light; the image of him I had painted in my mind crumbled instantly in that moment. I noticed the curve of his lips, the way they were slightly parted, the soft, brilliance of his eyes, the sharpness of his collarbones before they disappeared under his shirt. I'd never thought that a boy could be defined as pretty, but Will was _beautiful._ I wanted to paint him a thousand times from a thousand different angles.

I remembered my science teacher telling us that gravity is the force of attraction between two objects, and if that was the case, there was definitely a gravitational pull between me and the fair-haired boy sitting so excruciatingly close. I don't even think I realized that I was slowly moving towards him until his nose was brushing mine and I could feel his warm breath against my skin.

His lips brushed my own and my hands lifted almost involuntarily and tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him down to me, wanting him closer. All at once I realized the magnitude of what I was doing; I was a boy and Will was a boy, and my hands were in his hair, and his lips were parting mine, and _his_ hands were cupping my face. My senses were full of him. _Will. Will, Will, Will._ But this was so incredibly wrong and I couldn't figure out why it felt so _right._ My mind became a tornado of thoughts raging against each other. Plain desire against my better judgment.

Will's calloused fingers danced over my cheekbones and I shivered.

_So wrong._

They brushed down my neck.

_Oh. . ._

They paused at my shoulders.

_Dio._

His fingers began moving down my arms, setting my nerves on fire in a way that was almost painful. I jerked away from him suddenly, scrambling back, my hand flying to my lips. My chest was heaving.

What was wrong with me? This was _wrong._ And I. . . I. . . I _liked_ it.

Will's head was tilted down, his eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted like he was facing off his worst fear, the moonlight filtered through his soft waves of hair, highlighted the dips of his cheekbones, and reflected back into the night, making him look like an invaluable painting. "Nico?" His face crumbled into defeat as he spoke. His voice reminded me of a priceless vase, speeding towards the ground, beautiful even as it faced its certain doom, then crashing against the earth and shattering into countless little bits across the floor. Destroyed, broken, just that easily. And I was the one who had pushed it from its precarious perch at the edge of the drop-off.

I drew in a sharp, quivering breath that sent my whole body shaking. Will lifted his gaze slowly and took me in, my pale fingers covering my thin lips, bony knees pulled into an even bonier chest, my entire being trembling. I knew he was probably wondering what he ever saw in me, regretting that first day when he'd told me I wasn't boring.

The look of hurt and shock on his face was enough to set tears streaking down my cheeks and I buried my face in my knees. _I don't_ _want_ _to hurt Will. I_ can't _hurt Will._ I let out strangled sobs, I was just so confused and angry, at myself, and maybe even at Will for making me feel this way.

"I'm so sorry, Nico. So sorry. I. . . I'm _so_ , so sorry." He cursed under his breath, and I felt soft fingers touching my hair lightly, glancing over it like he was afraid I would shatter too, and I wasn't entirely sure that wasn't true. He kept repeating himself over and over, apologizing again and again.

It just made my heart ache even more because I couldn't _stand_ him touching me like that. I wanted him so much closer, but I _couldn't,_ I just _couldn't_ let myself think like that. It's so unbelievably agonizing, to have your heart and your mind at war like that.

I pressed my eyes harder into the denim of my jeans, trying to block out the rest of the world. Will's fingers kept brushing over my hair, he kept telling me that I was okay, that he was sorry, that he would understand if I never wanted to see him again.

And that's where I broke.

I lifted my head and threw all of my weight into him, clutching at his shirt like a child and burying my face in his chest. His hands hovered over me, completely and utterly shocked at this abrupt change in a predicament, and then he slowly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him and running his slender fingers through my hair, no longer cautious but strong and sure. He murmured soothingly to me, and my muscles relaxed almost immediately, my senses full of everything that was Will, everything that was familiar, and safe, and beautiful.

By the time my breathing had calmed down and the tears stopped flowing, there was a huge wet spot on Will's chest; I didn't let go and neither did he. I was clutching him like he was my lifeline, and he held me carefully like he wanted to protect me from everything. Including himself. But really, what I needed protecting from were my own thoughts.

"Nico," He whispered my name as if it was a marvelous beauty, "Neeks, are you okay?"

I shook my head, cuddling into him, forcing away the thoughts that told me I shouldn't, because I _wanted_ this. I wanted Will to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted to feel his arms wrapped around me and hear the beating of his heart. I wanted to feel warm and secure. I think that, subconsciously, it was what I had wanted for a while, only I had always denied it.

"Neeks," Will whispered again, and I couldn't help but think that he sounded almost amazed, "I still haven't figured you out."

I was quiet for a for a few seconds. "Just don't let me go." I requested quietly, surprising myself with my own words and the desperation lacing them. " _Please._ "

I felt his lips brush my hair as he spoke, more to himself than to me. "I never would."


	9. Off Kilter

The problem with trying to convince yourself that you _don't_ think something is true is that deep down in the dark recesses of your brain, you know that you wouldn't even be trying to convince yourself otherwise if you didn't believe the thing you were trying to forget was at least partially true. Which is confusing and annoying and _extremely_ frustrating. As you might have guessed, that was my current situation, only I was starting to move past blatantly denying it and on to questioning every single moment of my life since Will Solace had shoved his way into it. After I invited him, but that wasn't the point.

I cursed myself inwardly for agreeing to take that stupid pie over to his house; like I wouldn't have met him at some point if If I hadn't, like that would solve everything. I leaned against my headboard, working my jaw before trying out the words that had been tumbling around inside my head since I woke up. _I'm gay?_ They felt so strange, they seemed so foreign, foreign enough that I kept rejecting them even though I knew that they were true. It wasn't like I could just kiss another guy and _like_ it and still claim to be straight.

I'd never even considered the possibility before, it just didn't make sense. I felt like I should have _known_ before last night. . . or at least suspected it. Why would I just want to kiss Will out of nowhere without ever really thinking about him that way before? Without really thinking about _any_ guy that way before? Or any girl, for that matter.

And yet, I remembered how happy he had always made me feel and how I felt so safe whenever he was around, the weird, invasive emotions that I didn't understand, but then just pushed away to the back of my mind. Maybe I had liked Will for a while and I just hadn't realized it. It made sense, I hadn't had a friend for so long that I probably didn't realize that the things I was feeling about Will weren't the most platonic in the world.

I sighed in frustration, tangling my fingers into my hair and slumping down onto my pillows. I dragged my hands over my face and pressed my palms against my eyes. _It's just not right. It's not natural. I'm disgusting._ Then I flinched, remembering his voice at the café, the anger and hurt raging in his eyes. _Is that how you see me now? Am I_ disgusting _?_ And I remembered how, in my head, I had screamed and fought against those words. Will wasn't disgusting in the slightest. He was one of the most caring and nice people I knew, but was it okay, to think of him _that_ way? Because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop remembering his lips on mine, the way his fingers had felt brushing over my skin, how right it had felt, how my heart had seemed to expand until it was being constricted by my rib cage. And most of all, how deep down, I'd give anything to feel all of those things again.

_No,_ I thought. _It's not okay. It's not right._

I stood up, walked across the room, and looked over the words Will had written, _Who are you to judge the life I live? I know I'm not perfect, but before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean._ They were much higher than anything else penned on top of the black paint, and his handwriting was a lot nicer than mine too.

I suddenly felt a rush of annoyance and frustration and kicked the wall angrily to compensate, _"_ _Accidenti_ _a te."_ I leaned my head against it, hitting my fist against a poster. _"Dannazione."_ I wanted to break something. _"Mi sono trasformato in un ragazzina malato d'amore, si cazzo culo."_

I pulled away from the wall, pacing across the room and running my hands through my hair, then flopped ever so gracefully onto my bed face-first, muttering, "I hate everything," into my comforter.

I laid there for about ten minutes before the doorbell rang and Hazel yelled up the stairs that it was for me. "I wonder who that could be. What a _mystery,"_ I grumbled. "I just have _so many_ people that could possibly be wanting to talk to me." I considered having Hazel just tell him to go away, but ultimately decided that I had to face my problems some time and hauled myself out of bed and down the stairs.

My warm and inviting step-sister had left Will standing awkwardly on our front step with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. I stepped outside with him and shut the door behind me, folding my arms over my chest and pressing my back against the door like I was trying to disappear into it.

Will just grinned at me, straightening his shoulders. His eyes glimmered just like they always did. Like he was actually happy to see me and he didn't have anything better to be doing, like he was completely care-free. At first, I'd been jealous of it, how he smiled and talked and laughed and _lived_ so easily, but now I felt lucky just to be witnessing it, like he was sharing some of that spark with me, feeding life into the hollow husk that was my skull. That was my entire being.

"I was bored and I thought we could go somewhere."

"But what about--" I cut myself short, feeling blood rush to my cheeks, and immediately averted my gaze to the ground. "Uhm, y-yeah. Where do you want to go?"

Will shrugged, for once not making a comment about my sudden change in complexion. He was the exact opposite of everything I was feeling: the awkwardness, the embarrassment, the confusion, the way my heart was going a million miles an hour and my brain was flying twice as fast. "What about CiCi's?"

I nodded, smiling through the sick feeling in my stomach. I was only half-listening to Will's rant about the latest episode of _Scrubs_ he'd watched as we walked, the majority of my brain was dedicated to trying to figure out why he was acting so _normal_. We had _kissed_ last night, I confessed my darkest secret to him, I had sobbed into his shirt. At least I thought I had. My mind did a 180. I'd been asleep. . . and Will had come into my room to get me. . . I had woken up in my bed.

_Merda_.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at my shoes in horror. Maybe it had all been a dream. . . an extremely vivid dream that I remembered every single detail of. . . It wasn't impossible, in fact, it actually made a lot of sense. But why, _why_ , would I dream about kissing Will? And why, deep down, did I wish it had been real?

"Nico?" Will asked, turning around and looking at me with concern, "Are you okay?"

I swallowed and looked up at him, faking an easy smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. What are you gonna get?"

"Probably just the usual, what about you?"

"Yeah. . . that sounds good. . ." I answered distractedly, not looking at him.

Will nodded and continued jabbering away.

_No, no. There's no way it was a dream,_ I thought. _People don't fall asleep and wake up in their dreams. . . and dreams just_ aren't _that real._ But I still couldn't figure out why Will was acting this way. It was like he didn't _care_ , like it didn't happen at all, except I was positive it had happened. Maybe I was even a little scared that it hadn't, because I couldn't imagine feeling all of this and not having it reciprocated.

_Not_ _having_ _it_ reciprocated _?_ _I'm not supposed to be_ _thinking_ _like this_ at all.

I looked up at Will, watched as he grinned widely at the cloud-ridden sky like it was an old friend. I wasn't sure how I'd managed to ignore this for so long, the stupid, achy feeling in my heart. I'd thought that that description was just some dumb cliché that someone had made up, but it was like my chest was physically twinging and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

_No. Stop._ _This_ _has to stop. I can't think like this. It isn't right,_ I mentally scolded myself, shaking my head, making hair fall into my face that I pushed back carelessly.

I spent the rest of the walk there trying desperately to focus on what Will was saying and not how he _looked_ while he was saying it. How his eyes lit up and his lips stretched into smiles that were impossibly large and breath-taking. I was failing miserably and I didn't get it. I had pushed all of this aside so easily before that I had hardly even noticed it, but now that I'd finally acknowledged it I couldn't seem to forget it. It was like that stupid phrase, _'She didn't deserve it.'_ I was getting really sick of caring too much about things that I didn't even want to remember.

"Hey, Neeks!"

I turned around to find a very amused Will standing in the doorway of CiCi's, "You passed it."

I glared at him and stomped over to the door, which Will obviously found pretty hilarious because he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "What a little ray of sunshine," he intoned jokingly, and I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Shut up, Will."

"Not in a million years, Neeks."

We got our usual single bowl of pistachio and _stracciatella_ like we'd planned and sat at a table near the back. Will held a spoon out for me and I ended up knocking it out of his hand in a clumsy attempt at grabbing it. That's when I noticed that I was extremely, unexplainably nervous and the way Will was laughing and calling me a klutz as he waved the plastic appliance in my face teasingly wasn't helping matters any. I snatched it out of his hand, muttering a quick, "Thanks," before I scooped up a large helping of _gelato_ to get me out of talking momentarily while I tried to pull myself together.

Will grinned at me, scrunching his nose cutely, and I had to look away to hide the blush spreading over my cheeks because, yeah, he was _really_ cavolo  _cute_.

_No. No, he is not,_ I refuted, horrified with myself.

_"Neeekkkksss!"_

I turned back to Will, my eyes widening in surprise, "W-what?" Great, now I was stuttering, and I couldn't come up with a _single_ thing to say to him, which really sucked because it had been so _easy_ to talk to him before.

"You okay? You seem kind of off." He tilted his head to the side inquisitively, like a confused bird, smiling at me warmly.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a little distracted, I guess." _By you._

Will nodded, taking a bite of the _gelato._ "Thinking about decorating the ceiling?"

"And so what if I was?" I almost sighed with relief, because I'd finally found something normal to say and I hadn't tripped over my own tongue in the process.

Will shrugged, and I found myself reflecting that even that simple movement seemed graceful coming from him and that just wasn't fair. "Just wondering."

I grinned at him, _You fake emotions all of the time, you're fine, just pretend you're calm._ "You know, you still haven't helped me decorate mine."

Will laughed, leaning back in his seat. "I didn't know you still wanted me to."

I shrugged, smiling a bit, "It was just a suggestion."

Will nodded, looking off to the side, but I didn't follow his gaze, my eyes were too busy scanning over his face.

I tapped my fingers against the table restlessly, dropping my gaze down to watch them. _Stop it. Stop it. You can't do this. This is_ wrong _,_ I reminded myself, blowing out a deep breath and wondering for the millionth time why I had to be so stupid at the lake. If I wouldn't have kissed him, then just maybe I wouldn't feel this way.

That's what I was trying to tell myself, anyway, but the truth was, I'd felt like this long before that, I just hadn't accepted it. Even if I wouldn't have kissed Will, I'd still realized something there. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear that thought away, to forget.

A warm hand wrapped around my own, effectively stilling my fingers. I jumped in surprise and looked up at Will, sucking in a gasp that caught in my throat as I met his gaze.

"Nico?"

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to figure out why my arm was prickling and my heart was beating twice its normal pace. I tried to swallow, but my by throat was too dry. "Hm?" I asked, willing myself to pull my hand away, but somehow unable to make my muscles comply.

He wrapped his fingers around mine and the thundering in my chest grew even louder. _No, no. Stop. I can't do this._

"You seem anxious. Are you sure you're alright?"

I shook my head, reaching up with my other hand to gently disentangle my fingers from his. It gave me another excuse to pull my gaze away from his for a few seconds. "No. I mean, I'm fine. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night. . ." _You know, because I was awake half the night. Kissing you._ "I'm a little out of it."

I wasn't even the slightest bit surprised when his face immediately tightened into worried lines. "Hey, do you want to go home? If you're tired, you should sleep."

I should've said yeah. I should have yawned and pretended I could hardly keep my eyes open and then agreed that it was probably best if I got some rest, but for some reason, I suddenly didn't want to leave Will. For some reason, being alone sounded a lot more dangerous than the unfamiliar thoughts invading my brain.

"No," I said, maybe just a little too quickly, the underlying desperation seemed just a fraction too apparent. "I-I'll be bored at home alone," I explained hurriedly.

Will nodded, his attempt at casualness was even worse than mine. "Okay, Neeks. We should probably finish this before it melts." He gestured toward the bowl sitting between us and I nodded.

I let him have most of it, I wasn't really feeling up to eating a ton right then, and when it was time to go I trailed after him tentatively like I was afraid of where he was leading me. In a way, I kind of was, just not literally. But did I really _not_ want to be feeling like this? Was it really _so_ bad? A tiny voice at the back of my head whispered that it _definitely_ hadn't felt bad at all when I'd kissed Will. That same tiny voice was practically having a seizure because, yes, _I'd_ _kissed_ _Will Solace_ _and_ _he'd kissed me back._

I found myself staring at the back of his head, a million miles beyond confused, because if he was acting like this now, did he _really_ like me? Maybe he'd just been taking pity on me at the lake. Maybe that stupid kiss hadn't meant anything at all. At least not to him. That didn't make sense either, though. He'd looked so absolutely _hurt_ when I'd scrambled away from him. Maybe he still hadn't forgiven me.

That didn't matter, though. Of course, it didn't matter, because I wasn't even supposed to be considering this. All of my life, _everyone around me_ had taught that being gay is wrong, that it's a _sin,_ and while I wasn't supposed to hate gay people or treat them any differently than everybody else, because they were, of course, _people,_ and they had their own choices to make and love thy neighbor and all. . . and what reason did I have to think that my parents, the people at my church, were wrong? Why would they lie to me? Of course, they wouldn't _intentionally_ be lying, but still. It didn't make sense. Nothing about this made sense, especially since I kept referring to "gay people" like I wasn't one of them.

And apparently Will, the stupid kid who was responsible for all of the _idiotic_ thoughts raging around in my head, had stopped, and apparently I should have been paying more attention, because I smacked right into his chest, and he stepped back, taking me by the shoulders and laughing, teasing me. And he was much too close and I could just reach up and. . .

I stepped back hastily, mumbling an apology and trying desperately not to meet Will's eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay, Neeks?"

I was forced to look up and meet his gaze, which really didn't work in my favor. "Yeah, I'm fine," I told him, trying to act confused like I had absolutely no idea why he would ask.

Will pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and started gnawing on it worriedly, which was something he did all of the time, but I was just now realizing that he looked _really_ good when he did it. "You sure?"

I swallowed and muttered, "Mm-hm," because I didn't think I'd be able to manage anything else right then.

"Okay. . ." he said, but his eyes were still troubled, "Where to now?"

"Your house?" It seemed like the perfect solution, we could just sit in Will's room and talk like we always did, I wouldn't be alone, and I didn't feel like being surrounded by the dark interior of my room. I needed something that was a bit more subtle and happy.

_Something a_ _bit_ _more like Will._

**-**

It was nearly night time and the only light in the room was was a dim lamp that gave off just enough glow to illuminate half of Will's room.

He was stretched out across his bed, one arm thrown carelessly above him and the other slung across his stomach. He had his eyes closed and he smiled as spoke, his voice was light and drawling, almost like he was half asleep. He wasn't worried about me at all, everything was the same.

_Everything is the same,_ I told myself. The only problem was that if everything really _was_ the same, I wouldn't be crammed into the corner where his headboard met the wall with my knees pulled into my chest like I was trying to shield myself from him. I would be over there, stretched out next to him, laughing too hard at his stupid jokes and secretly loving when he shifted and his arm pressed against mine, or when he turned his head and his face was so close to mine that I could pick out the tiny flecks of gold around his irises.

I could have pretended that all of that was normal.

Will turned his head towards me, opening his eyes and grinning. I quickly pulled my face into a smile of my own. Will frowned.

"What's wrong?"

I developed a bewildered expression, "What?"

He drew himself into a sitting position, "I know you, Nico. I can read your facial expressions by now and I know when something is off. What aren't you telling me?"

_You know, Will. You should know._

"Nothing's wrong." I did my best to sound amused, "I just have a default pissed off face. If you know me so well, then you have to know _that."_

He still looked doubtful, "Yeah, but--"

"No buts, everything is fine."

He studied me for a second, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, and he gave me a small smile, "Then get over here, you don't have to sit ten feet away from me."

A muscle in my face twitched, part of me was afraid of getting too close to him. I was afraid of what I might do, small things I would regret later.

I moved out of my corner, out of the safe, enclosed crevice. Some people hated being in constricted areas, but most of the time, it made me feel like I was harder to reach, to hurt, if I was pressed into a small space.

Will waited as I crawled my way over to him. I was blushing as he smiled and bit his lip to keep from laughing at how awkward I looked.

We talked for a while after that, it could have been hours or minutes, I wasn't keeping track of time, but somehow we ended up laying down, me on my back, staring up at the ceiling, and Will curled up on his side next to me. He'd fallen asleep a while ago, all I knew that it was late at night and the top of his head was nearly pressed against the side of mine and my shoulder was flush against his chest.

It was impossible to even think about sleeping when I could feel his hair brushing my face and his breath against my neck. When he was lying so close to my side and his hand had fallen on top of my chest a while ago when he'd turned over in his sleep. Somehow I managed to fight the urge to turn to face him and snuggle even closer.

I could have spent the night with my face pressed into his chest and my arm around him and then pretended that it was an accident in the morning, but I didn't. I didn't because I knew Will would see right through me, and if there was anyone that I absolutely had to keep this from other than my family, it was him.

I still regretted it, though. I needed to stop letting myself get so close, but it was already so much harder than it should have been.

**-**

It wasn't like I was just aimlessly doodling and then his face appeared, even though I sort of wished it had happened that way, then I could pretend it was just a coincidence. The truth was that I couldn't help but _want_ to draw him, no matter how hard I fought it, and eventually, I gave in. I started off with small things: his lips; grinning, smirking, laughing, and just resting normally, his eyes; wide, crinkled at the edges like they always were whenever he smiled, filled with concern like they were so often for me, winking at me teasingly, his nose; the freckles dotting it, the way it scrunched up when he laughed, his hands; beautiful and strong and calloused and gentle. And then I started drawing his whole face, and then his collarbones and shoulders and his arms and his torso until I was drawing full-body renditions that were so accurate it scared me. I never realized how much time I spent studying him, how it seemed like I knew him better than I knew myself.

I felt like I was addicted, like I couldn't stop. I drew him over and over, my pencil tracing the same paths that my eyes had so many times before until I finally realized why I hadn't been able to draw him until now. It was because I was blocking out the most vital part of him-- maybe even of myself-- that I knew, the way he made me _feel_. Even if I didn't _want_ to feel these things, even if they confused me and me sick to my stomach, they were vital and they were real, they still _mattered_ _._ I hated that most of all. _They mattered._ I couldn't just get rid of them because some part of me _liked_ them.

I dropped my sketchpad like it had scalded me, watching it topple to the ground and fall open to a random set of pages. Ones that were filled with Will, of course. The first was fixed on a rough sketch of him playing his guitar, his head tilted forward and strands of hair hanging over his face, he was lost in his own music; the second was a detailed drawing of him at the lake, leaning back on his hands, hair plastered to his forehead and water running down his back in rivulets.

I had entire pages dedicated to trying to get the color of his eyes right, entire pages trying to describe how he made me feel and how I hated it and how I didn't want to feel _anything_ anymore. The whole thing was one giant, _stupid_ diary of Will Solace. It was the only outlet for all of _this._

"What's wrong with me?" I muttered, dragging a hand over my face.

This wasn't supposed to happen. People weren't supposed to feel this way about other people of the same sex, and yet, here I was, doing just that.

"My parents would be disgusted," I told myself. It didn't change anything.

Nothing changed it.

I was starting to worry that nothing could.

I was starting to worry that Will could completely smash me to pieces and I would feel like this.

I felt more broken than I ever had before. More confused. More at odds. But sometimes I felt happier than I ever remembered being in my entire life, and that scared me the most. It scared me because if I did succeed, if I did forget or stop feeling, that would go away too, and I didn't want it to.

My hands were shaking as I bent down and picked the book up again. I sobbed quietly, clutching it to my chest, looking up and whispering to God to make this _stop._ I just wanted everything to stop.

**-**

_The curve of a smile, the taste of it, moonlight spilling over a pair of shoulders, the graceful arch of a neck, muscles rippling under my fingers. . . calloused hands. . ._ I crashed onto my bedroom floor, jerking awake and managing to get myself hopelessly tangled up in my blankets.

_"_ _Cazzo,"_ I muttered, kicking my legs in order to extricate myself from the covers.

I hauled me and my duvet back onto my bed and flopped down onto my pillow. Normally, I couldn't remember my dreams, but this one was as fresh in my mind as if I had actually lived through it. I blew out a breath, suddenly realizing that I was shaking.

_Cazzo._

I shucked the blanket off, I felt like I was being suffocated by my own thoughts. The very air in the room was pressing down on me, hot and dry, carrying words and accusations that I didn't want to listen to. They swirled around me until I was forced to acknowledge them.

"What's _wrong_ with me?" I asked myself for the thousandth time since _that_ day last week.

I turned and curled in on myself, trying to forget, to remember what it was like to not have this crippling weight on my shoulders, this knowledge. It had become heavier and heavier every day. My mouth felt too dry, I couldn't swallow and it made me feel like I was choking, struggling to breathe through sand being poured down my throat.

I dragged myself out of bed and down the stairs into the kitchen for a cold glass of water. The cool liquid chased away the drought in my throat but not the images from my dream. _Skin_ _and_ _sweet caresses, gasping breath and singing nerves_ _._

I clutched the cup so tightly that my knuckles turned white and I was afraid the glass would shatter and cut into my palm. A tiny, insignificant part of me wished it would, maybe that would be enough to make me forget this, if even for a second. Even if it was white-hot pain that drove away these _thoughts._

I clenched my eyes shut, figures burned behind my eyelids. I couldn't escape. It was silly to even try, I almost laughed.

I found myself remembering how Will had climbed up to my window twice before, how the first time he'd stayed with me the whole night to make sure I had a good night's rest. How I woke up to find him just a couple of inches in front of me, still sleeping peacefully, his face relaxed and beautiful. He always looked beautiful. I remembered how my bed had smelled faintly of him after he left and how I had pretended that it didn't bother me when it faded away completely so soon afterward.

For a moment, I imagined climbing in Will's window and snuggling into him. I wondered how he would react; if he wrap his arms around me and whisper something soft, if he would shuffle away and ask why I was there. And what would I tell him? The truth? That I was seeking comfort and the very thing that was bothering me was what I was doing right then? It scared me that Will was the first thing my mind turned to when I was in distress. Especially when he was the person that caused me so much confusion.

It wasn't his fault, though.

Now I was picturing the second occasion, when we'd raced through the woods in the dead of night, when _I'd_. . . but those memories were dangerous.

I pulled myself out of the chair I was sitting in, leaving the glass on the table. I tried to sleep when I got back into my room, but almost as soon as I started drowsing, I was dreaming of _him_ and then I was jolting awake all over again, shaking and confused.

_Him._

I spent the rest of the night trying to pull myself together and I never succeeded. I tried to convince myself that Will was _just_ _my_ _friend_ , that that was how I should think of him because that was what he _should be,_ but it never worked.

My alarm clock started screeching at me and I had to haul myself across the room to turn it off before I flopped back onto my mattress for another thirty minutes. By the time I actually started getting ready I barely had time to change clothes and grab something to eat as I rushed out the door, shrugging my jacket on the rest of the way and combing through my hair hurriedly with one hand as I clutched my uncooked Pop Tart with the other.

**-**

I trudged into my first-period class and dropped into my seat with a thud, burying my head in my arms and ignoring Leo, who was perched on the desk in front of mine. He'd started hanging out in my class until the five-minute bell rang, when he'd scurry down the hall to get to his own class. This had annoyed me at first, but I'd actually kinda grown to like the guy. Kinda. Sometimes I still wanted to rip his head off just so he would shut up, but he was Leo, so that was to be expected.

"Nico?"

_"What?"_ I grumbled, my agitation leaching into my words.

"You look like crap," Leo stated chirpily like he was announcing that it was a beautiful day. Which, for the record, it was not. Up until a few days ago, you would have thought summer was still in full swing except for the leaves changing color and falling off of their branches. I'd always thought it was a bit morbid that people wondered over the beauty of a tree that was slowly killing itself just to survive. Especially since they looked so _skeletal_ once they'd sucked all of their life into their core like a person cutting off their circulation above an injury so they wouldn't bleed out even though they could lose a limb later. Of course, most people didn't look at it that way, but I wasn't most people.

"Thanks." The word was pulled taught like a trip wire that was just waiting for some poor soul to stumble across it.

I imagined Leo smiling smugly. "Much obliged."

I rolled my eyes, lifting my head tiredly to give him a halfhearted glare. Leo's smile faded a bit, apparently me stumbling into a room with tangled hair and circles under my eyes so dark they could have been eyeshadow wasn't concerning, but the fact that I didn't even have enough energy to be pissed at him was.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I grunted, letting my head drop back into its previous position. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't been getting a lot of sleep," I mumbled into the sleeve of my shirt.

"Is it Will?" My head snapped back up at the question, which Leo apparently took to mean, 'Yes,' because he rolled his eyes and fixed me with an exasperated look. "I'm not dumb Nico, you two are so obvious that a blind man could see it, and now you're acting all weird around each other and you're even worse when you _aren't_ around each other."

He gave me a moment to stare at him with wide, panicked eyes before he sighed and continued. "Did you guys have a fight? Did you break up?" He sat there for a second, and then grinned wildly, which really didn't seem to fit the current situation, and it also didn't help the huge mass of confused, swirling thoughts inside my head. "Well, don't worry, bro. I got you covered. Leo Valdez may be a bad boy, but he's also quite good with the ladies. . ." he coughed awkwardly, "Well, in your case it's a gentleman, but it can't be that much different, right?"

I just stared at him some more, there was so much going on in my mind right then that it seemed like nothing was going on at all because I couldn't quite hold on to any of my thoughts; they were there and then they were gone and a whole hoard of new ones was flooding in and overriding my system. I finally forced one out that seemed to be coming back more frequently than all of the others, "We're not dating."

Now it was Leo's turn to stare in confusion, "You mean. . . not _anymore,_ right?"

I shook my head. "No, I mean, we're not. . . we haven't ever. . . I'm. . ." _What? Straight? That's such_ cazzate _and you know it._

"Oh."

I looked away from Leo, shaking my head. _Don't tell him. Don't tell him. If you tell him it just becomes that much more real. Don't tell him._

"So, then. . . what _is_ bothering you?"

I shook my head again, "It's nothing." I told him. Will's voice whispered in the back of my head, _You seem to say that a lot, 'It's nothing.' When is it going to be something, Nico?_

Leo rose his eyebrows, "You wouldn't be acting like this over nothing."

I worked my jaw, looking down at my hands, noticing for the first time that that I had smears of paint here and there, blue and gold mostly. And different swathes of caramel. "You should probably go, the five-minute bell is going to ring any second."

Leo opened his mouth to say something, and then he shook his head defeatedly as more people started trickling into the classroom. He hopped down from the desk, "Fine, Neeks, but I'm not letting this go. After school, you're telling me exactly what's going on."

Normally, I would have retaliated and yelled something at his back in an attempt at discouraging him, but I wasn't in the mood. I felt drained.

"Only Will calls me Neeks. . ." I muttered weakly, but he was already gone.

**-**

After a day of beatings, taunts, and seemingly worthless work, I'd forgotten Leo's promise, but apparently he hadn't.

"What was up with you this morning?" he asked, breaking the casual silence that had stretched out between us. I hadn't thought much of it, I'd even been relieved that Leo wasn't jabbering for once, but now I realized that he had probably been trying to figure out how to bring it up. He looked awkward and nervous, which was out of character for him. My guess was that he wasn't used to giving advice and asking about people's problems. I couldn't blame him, I didn't have much practice myself.

I sighed in annoyance, "I already told you, I was just tired." That was true, well, maybe not the 'just' part, but I _had_ only gotten three hours of sleep.

"Is there any particular reason _why_ you were tired?" he ventured.

I paused for a second, seeing Will's flashing smile in my mind's eye, the hesitation was slight, but I think Leo noticed, I saw him glance over at me with his eyebrows raised. "Yeah," I said, lacing the word with sarcasm, "it's called _lack of sleep."_

Leo rolled his eyes, "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, and that was my answer. Why is it so hard for you to believe that there's not anything bothering me?"

"Because I've seen you sleep-deprived before, and you might look like shit and be a bit distracted, but you never let yourself show that much outward distress, Nico. Even when-- even when Percy and them are jack-holes you act like it's no big deal. So, something must really be getting to you for you to have acted like that."

_"Jack-holes?"_ I scoffed, but inwardly I was beating myself up. _How could I be so_ stupid _?_ _How_ _could_ _I_ _let my guard down like that? I'm not supposed to show weakness._ Snapshots of all of the times I'd broken that rule in front of Will flooded into my head and I pushed them away, feeling a slight blush touch my cheeks.

"Don't try and change the subject, Nico." Leo sounded more amused than annoyed.

_Am I really that transparent?_

"I wasn't, I was just pointing out that 'jack-hole' sounds lame."

"Okay, whatever helps you sleep at night."

He was silent for the next thirty seconds and I was beginning to think that he was going to drop it, but then he blurted, "You know, I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me," and I barely refrained from letting out a groan.

"There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe you for a second."

He kept pestering me the whole way and he didn't make the turn when we got to his street. I wheeled around to face him as we approached my house, _"Bye, Leo."_ I fixed him with a pointed look.

"No," he said stubbornly, "I'm not leaving until you tell me."

I glared at him, "Yes, you are," and then I turned and started making my way up the drive.

I heard Leo following behind me, "Nico, so help me, I will follow you into your house."

I turned to face him again as I stepped onto the bottom stair. "No, you won't."

He raised his eyebrows at me, something in his eyes said that he would come in whether I wanted him to or not. We had a silent stare-down for a few seconds, me glaring daggers at him, and Leo obviously trying to make himself seem both parts concerned and menacing at once, which wasn't working out so well, as you might imagine.

"I can stand out here all day, di Angelo." Leo leaned casually against the supporting column of the house, folding his arms over his chest. He was neck and neck with me for the wimpiest muscle award.

I worked my jaw for a second and then I sighed in defeat, mostly because I didn't want Leo bothering me about this for the rest of eternity. _"Fine."_

Leo grinned triumphantly, "I knew you would come to your senses sooner or later."

"Shut up before I change my mind."

Leo made a zipping motion across his mouth and I rolled my eyes, pushing the door open.

Neither of us said a word until we were up in my room, sitting across from each other on opposite ends of my bed. Even then, we stared at each other awkwardly for what felt like ten minutes before Leo finally spoke up, which wasn't surprising.

"Are we just going to sit here all day, or are you going to explain?"

I considered telling him some elaborate lie, but I couldn't think of anything that would have put me in this situation except what had actually happened, so instead, I closed my eyes, blew out a breath, and said, "You have to promise me you won't laugh."

"I wouldn't--"

"Just say it." I said, my eyes were still closed. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

"Okay, okay. I promise." Leo's face was full of confusion.

My head was spinning, trying to figure out how to put everything I was feeling into a few words. _I like_ _Will_ _. Oh,_ Dio, _I_ like _him, and I can't. . ._ _I shouldn't. . ._ I remembered the way Leo had seemed so blunt and casual about assuming that Will and I were _together_. I remembered Will standing and storming away so quickly that his chair crashed into the tile, yanking my heart with it.

"I need you to promise you won't get mad. You can't freak out, okay?"

Now he just looked exasperated, _"Why_ would I be mad?"

"Leo, I promise I have good reasons. . ." I was already panicking.

"I swear I won't get mad."

"No matter what?"

He hesitated for a second, I probably would have too if someone was acting the way I was, "Yes. . . No matter what." He didn't sound so sure.

I sat there for a bit, picking at a string that was unraveling from my jeans, "So. . ." I cleared my throat. I was trying to put off saying it out loud for as long as possible. "It is about Will." His name came out sounding fragile and quiet, as if I was afraid of it.

Leo managed to look even more confused, "Wait. . . so. . ."

My throat felt like it was closing up and my cheeks were flaming, "I think. . . I think I _like_ him," I choked.

"Oh. . .?" He was still waiting for me to get to the point. He didn't understand that that _was_ my problem, that was the awful, horrible secret that kept me up at night.

I shook my head, raking a hand through my hair, "You don't get it. I don't _want_ to like him."

"What do you mean, 'you don't _want_ to like him'--" His eyes widened, "Oh."

I clenched my eyes shut, dragging my knees into my chest and hugging them tightly. "Just go," I muttered, that one word, or rather the way he looked-- the way he _sounded--_ when he said it, summed up everything he was thinking. He thought I was disgusting, but for a whole different reason than the one I had pinned on myself.

"Okay. . . but before I go, I want to ask you something." He didn't give me any time to object, "Why?"

I opened my eyes again and looked at him, I wondered if I looked as much like a corpse as I felt. "Because. . . because everyone says it's _wrong,_ Leo, and they're right. They have to be right. . ."

He shook his head, "I don't get that. Why do they have to be right?"

I looked down, "Because I believe that everything else they say is true and if _this_ isn't, then I don't have any reason to believe anymore and I just can't. . . I can't _do_ that. And my family. . ." My tone was desperate like I was frantically trying to make my words make sense. As if someone else agreeing with them would make this any easier to bare.

Leo swallowed, "Nico. . . I just. . . want you to consider something." He shifted his position slightly, "How is it _right_ to tell a person that they can't love someone?"

". . . Because _love_ isn't supposed to be like that." I felt tears falling over my cheeks and I didn't even try and brush them away. Leo was just confusing me even more because what he was saying made sense. It wasn't supposed to make sense.

"Do you really believe that?" His voice was quiet and sad.

_Did I_ _?_

_Maybe._

_Yes._

_Of course._

_I couldn't_ not _believe it._

"I. . . I don't know," I muttered.

Leo shifted uncomfortably, that nervousness again. "Does it _feel_ wrong to like him?"

I looked down at my hands. _No. No, it feels_ so _good. He makes me feel important._ "Things that feel good aren't necessarily _good,_ Leo."

He was silent for a long time, "I'm not sure how to help."

I laughed, finally wiping the wetness off of my face. "I didn't expect you to solve all of my problems."

"I know, but--"

"I kissed him," I said, just loud enough for him to hear me. I wasn't sure exactly why I _was_ saying it, especially at such a random moment, I guess I figured that I might as well throw everything out at once. "I kissed him and then. . . I sort of freaked out. But then it was _okay_  and I. . . We were okay. And now he's acting like it never happened and I'm not sure what that means. I should be _grateful_ but I. . ." My voice drifted off, Leo was looking at me with a knowing expression.

"What do you mean, 'It was okay'?"

I looked down, remembering how he'd held me in his arms and whispered to me softly. "I guess it didn't really mean anything. . . He probably thinks that I want to pretend it never happened."

"Well, do you?"

Silence again.

"Maybe."

Leo nodded, "You can text me if you want to, Nico." His tone told me that he was leaving.

"Okay."

The door clicked shut and I sunk down onto my bed. Tears rolled off of my cheeks silently, they made the material of my pillow damp, my skin felt sticky where their trails lingered.

_How am_ _I_ _supposed to choose between Will or_ _my_ _religion?_ _Will_ _or my family?_

**-**

I was rushing out of my last period the next day, hoping against hope that I wouldn't see _them_ again when a huge, meaty hand gripped my shoulder. I whipped around and immediately stiffened when my eyes landed on Frank, glancing around, trying to pick out the rest of them through the crowd.

"They're not here, I just want to talk to you." He spoke in a reassuring voice, holding his hands up like he was trying to prove that he was harmless.

I eyed him suspiciously, "Why?"

He unslung his backpack from his shoulder, "I have something to give you."

Instinctively, I took a few steps back. It had to be a trap. I glanced around again, trying to pinpoint someone filming or people slowing down to watch, maybe a few kids who were trying to hide smirks or others who were looking at me sympathetically but wouldn't want to intervene and become the object of their torment along with me. I didn't see anything unusual, just people rushing to get out of here, talking to their friends and laughing.

Frank was unzipping his backpack and I snapped my attention back forward, watching what he was doing warily. Some part of me whispered that this might be a diversion, the real show might be going on somewhere else. I looked behind me quickly, saw nothing, and switched my focus to Frank again.

"I know I should have given this to you sooner, but. . . Nevermind, I have it now, though."

My mouth dropped open, "That's. . ."

"Your drawings, yeah." He was holding my sketchpad out expectantly, the one that had been in my backpack the day they'd dumped me in an alley, but I was still worried that he had some sort of hidden motive.

"Are you serious?"

Frank looked amused, "Yeah, I'm serious."

I reached out tentatively and pulled it loose from his hand, "Thanks. . .?"

He nodded. "You're really good at drawing, by the way."

My face paled, my sketchpads were basically the equivalent of a diary or a journal for me, they held all of my secrets and my thoughts. Luckily, they were a lot more abstract than just words on paper, but I still felt violated. "You were looking through them?"

He at least had the grace to be embarrassed. "A few of them." He cleared his throat and looked around like he was afraid someone might be listening before leaning forward and whispering, "Look, Percy and them are waiting for you at your locker so you should probably leave right now."

I stared at him like he'd just sprouted wings. This couldn't be for real, he couldn't just be doing this out of the 'goodness' of his heart. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"What could I _possibly_ gain from this?"

I thought about it for a second, the answer was nothing. I shrugged.

"Exactly. Do you have anything in there that you need?"

"I just don't get why you're helping me all of the sudden," I said instead of answering him.

Frank pursed his lips, "I've never _wanted_ to be a part of this, Nico."

"Then why are you? Couldn't you just help me out or try and discourage them or _something?"_

"It's not that simple--"

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever. I'll see you later, Frank."

Then I turned and hurried out the doors, clutching my sketchpad in my hand trying not to wonder what he had meant. I didn't need something _else_ to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if anyone here actually knows Italian, please correct my horrible attempts at it because 310% sure that it's disgustingly wrong


	10. The Tempo of the Universe

I think the thoughts of the world must be deafening, not just in volume, but in impact. The weight of my own thoughts was already so much, pressing down against my shoulders, threatening to crush me, and then asking me to carry it without complaint. I couldn't imagine seven billion times that. Seven billion times the amount of pain and confusion, ideas struggling against each other. Seven billion whirl-storms of joy and hate and sadness and love that were all so completely different, and yet all of them were suffering in their own way.

I wondered what Will's whirl-storm was like. I wondered what kind of awful things he kept trapped inside, hidden behind his bright eyes and brilliant smile. No matter how happy he seemed on the outside, I knew there were things he struggled with. We all have a little bit of darkness inside us, after all. This world won't let us leave untainted.

My fingers chafed at the fabric of my jeans like I was trying to erode holes into the knees. These were the kind of thoughts I usually had at three a.m., staring at the ceiling and finally letting the weight of everything seep in. The weight of the blows and the words thrown at me so carelessly. The weight of loneliness, of self-deprecation, of confusion and memories. I wasn't supposed to let my mind sink this far in the middle of the day when there were things all around to distract me. The droning of my teacher's voice, the view of the mountains outside, the way patterns of my desk twisted and folded in on themselves, the whispered comments and snickers of my peers throughout the class.

Today they were not enough to keep my turmoil at bay.

I drifted through school in a cloud of tired sadness. It was like I just wasn't willing to try to pull myself out of my slump, I didn't even try and hide from Octavian when he came careening down the hallway, when his eyes lit on me and his mouth curled upwards. I didn't run when he called Percy and Jason over, Frank was nowhere to be seen. I didn't even try to hide the way their taunts and insults cut into me. I still flinched when their fists and shoes hit my flesh.

It stung, but it didn't matter, I was used to pain. It was an old friend. That was a lie. People don't get used to pain, they just tell themselves they do.

**-**

It was a Saturday and the air was chilled and as sharp as a knife against my cheeks. I thought it might snow later.

Will and I were on the roof of an empty building near Vinylust. Hollie had shown us this spot a while ago, she said she came here after work sometimes because the city lights looked pretty at night and it was a good place to think. It was taller than most of the buildings in this area, and everything gradually sloped down for a while from this point, giving us a pretty good view. We were sitting in silence, the only sound was the large 'FOR RENT' banner behind us, fluttering in the slight wind.

Will was staring in the other direction out across the city. The sun broke free of the clouds for a couple of moments and the light glinted off the buildings, making it hard to look at them, so I looked at Will instead. At least, that's why I told myself I was looking. I studied his profile, the way his cheekbones jutted out slightly, the sharp edge of his jawline. I could so easily reach out and trace it. . . stop at his chin and turn his face towards mine. . . his lips came into view and my eyes outlined their shape. . . I registered distantly that they were moving.

"--ks? Nico?"

My eyes drifted up to his and only then did I realize that I'd been staring at him. I snapped my mouth shut, willing myself not to blush. It didn't work. Will rose his eyebrows inquisitively, a small smile on his face.

"Will-- I-- it's not--" I struggled to explain myself, and then I sighed in frustration and defeat. We both knew the truth, so what use was it to deny it? It was that thought that tore the words, "Did it even happen?" out of my mouth before I even had time to realize what I was doing; they sounded exasperated and desperate.

A crease appeared between his eyebrows, "Did what happen?"

I'd gone this far and I couldn't exactly back out now. "Last week. . . at the lake. You couldn't sleep and so you. . ." I trailed off, I saw the understanding in Will's eyes already. He looked anxious, but not half as anxious and confused as me. "Why. . . why didn't you bring it up? You've been acting like _nothing happened."_

Will tugged at the string of his jacket, it was one of his nervous habits, along with chewing on his lips and the inside of cheeks. The hoodie was a subtle blue-gray color, and he wore it so often that holes had started to form at various places. I knew from experience that it was warm and it always smelled like him unless he'd washed it recently. "I thought you would want to forget about it. I thought you might regret it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and I just. . . I just thought that if you _didn't_ regret it you would bring it up. . ." His words were strung together, everyone cutting off the last so his sentences sounded like nonsense, but I understood.

 _"No._ Will, I haven't been able to _stop_ thinking about it. I mean, I _tried,_ but I couldn't forget it even if I-- even if I had a choice." I felt my face flare even hotter, "And this whole time I thought you didn't. . ." I looked away from him, I'd promised myself that I wouldn't do this, I wasn't supposed to get any more involved in this _thing._ "I'm just so confused, Will," I said quietly, "I don't know _why. . ._ I just, I can't imagine what would happen if my family knew. . . I thought it was a _choice,_ but I don't have any say in this. If I did--" I cut myself short, I had been about to say, "If I did, I wouldn't choose _this,"_  but was that really true? If I had the choice, would I really throw away everything I was feeling for a sense of normalcy and security? The question scared me, or more accurately, the answer did.

I felt his fingers brush over my cheek and my stomach flooded with warmth even though they felt like ice against my skin. "I'm so sorry, Neeks." I could see his frown in my peripheral vision.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes planted on the ground, "It's just. . . that was was my first kiss, Will." The word 'kiss' hitched in my mouth, it felt explosive and dangerous and _tempting_. "This is my first _anything,_ and. . . I'm not even supposed to. . . everyone says. . ."

"That it's wrong?"

I looked up at him and nodded, I wondered if he saw the way I flinched when he said it. I felt it again, the hysterical tug-of-war between two different sides of my brain, my feelings and my priorities, and I couldn't tell what part of me was winning because I didn't know what part I rooting for. I didn't know what part I _should_ be rooting for. "I'm so confused, Will," I repeated. "I just don't get it."

He stared at me for a second, trying to figure me out, I think, probably for the billionth time. He seemed to come to some conclusion because he propelled himself forward for seemingly no reason at all and moved to sit in front of me. The burst of action seemed so abrupt that I was startled by his sudden stillness, I had expected him to do a lot more than move a few inches. It was dizzying, the way he was a flash one moment and then a perfectly clear picture the next. He was cut from stone, tense and poised, he seemed to know exactly where he meant to be, why he wanted to be there. His face was the only part of him that wasn't rigid, his eyes were soft, his mouth was relaxed and full, bent into a shape just short of being a smile, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold, making him look excited and care-free. He stared at me for a second, not my eyes, but everything else, and then his fingers brushed over my face carefully and my breath quickened its pace fractionally, I don't even think Will noticed at all.

"I want to try something, okay? I need you to trust me." He was running his thumb over my cheekbone slowly, he could probably feel my face growing warmer beneath his palm.

I nodded again, I could tell that I would sound breathless even before I spoke, "Okay." I didn't even hesitate, which surprised me, but I think that the fact that Will had asked me to trust him had triggered that response. I trusted him more than anyone else in my life because he'd given me his friendship and his kindness without a second thought, he'd done it without anyone asking him to, without being obligated to do so and he deserved the same from me.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just because." He was smiling teasingly and it made it easier not to worry, so I complied.

I sensed him hesitating for a second, and then his fingers moved from my cheek down to my lips, tracing them like I'd been tracing his lips with my eyes barely a minute ago. I shivered and Will's hands touched my hair softly, smoothing strands out of my face.

"If you want me to stop, just say something."

I was about to say, "Something," as a lame joke, and then Will's lips were brushing over my jaw and my head was swept of all thought, the word came out as a startled sort of sigh. It made Will smile. His lips were soft and inquisitive, they were there and then gone; long enough to make me catch my breath, but not long enough to get used to it, not long enough for it to be enough, never long enough for me to second guess myself. They moved over jaw and across my cheekbones, he kissed my forehead, moved hair aside to reveal the hollow of my temple where my ugly, puckered scar interrupted the faded olive of my skin, his mouth lingered there before he moved down to the space just below my ear. His hands held me steady the whole time. The effect was marvelously foudroyant and I found myself clutching at him like he was my anchor even though he was the one doing this to me in the first place. His breath fanned over my mouth, he was pausing just before he closed the gap, silently asking me if it was okay. I suddenly understood what he had meant, _I want to try something,_ he wanted to see how I would react to him, and I found myself nudging my cold nose against his cheek expectantly, my lips parted and my breaths labored. Will laughed, rich and happy, and then he kissed me.

There was a moment when my brain erupted into thought and sensation, a moment when everything seemed absolutely perfect, and then everything chugged to a very startled, very uncertain stop. The last time this had happened, I'd been too caught up in the moment to realize that I had no idea what I was doing. This time, I was excessively aware that I had no experience whatsoever in the kissing department and Will seemed to know _exactly_ what he was doing. _Dio,_ he made this seem like it was _simple._

I pulled away from him, blushing, suddenly feeling self-conscious about everything from my wind-rumpled hair to the pimple next to my nose to my cracked lips. The mood dropped drastically to confusion and anxiety on his part and embarrassment and shock on mine.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

 _Everything_ _about_ _this_ _is wrong,_ my subconscious whispered. I swatted the voice aside. I wanted to pretend it was untrue.

I felt my face grow even warmer. "No, it's just. . . I don't. . . I've never really kissed anyone before," I mumbled awkwardly. My voice was willowy and rushed.

Now Will looked amused, crinkling his nose cutely. "Yes, you have."

I remembered it vividly, the unusually warm air that belied the season, the realization, _me_ leaning forward first, the ardor, the horror that set in soon after.

I glared at him, "That doesn't count." I blustered as he ran his thumb over my cheek affectionately. He seemed to enjoy doing that, not that I minded. Well, some part of me minded, some part was afraid of the way that simple gesture alone made me feel light-headed, but I wanted to ignore it. I wanted it so badly, but I couldn't have it. I wasn't supposed to.

I told myself that it wouldn't hurt. Just for now. Just in this moment. Just so that I could remember how it felt.

"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. I was almost positive that he was consciously trying to look unbearably sexy.

"Because I wasn't-- _it just doesn't count,_ okay?"

Will laughed, "Well, I can show how you to kiss someone properly," he practically purred, brushing his lips over the tip of my nose, giving me a cat's smile. My suspicions were confirmed, he was definitely trying to drive me insane. And it was working.

I gulped, knowing my head probably looked like a giant cherry. "It would help if you didn't act like you know exactly what you're doing. I mean, you probably do, but that's not the point."

Will shrugged, "I don't actually know what I'm doing, I'm just doing whatever I feel like. I find it usually pays off. You should try it."

I sighed, leaning my forehead against his, I felt shaky and unstable. "The only problem is that I don't know _what_ I want."

"That's because you're thinking too much," he said knowledgeably. "Relax, Neeks."

I closed my eyes, blowing out a breath, willing my muscles to slacken. Will brushed his fingers over my spine and I shivered, shifting to rest my head on his shoulder.

He chuckled softly, looping his arms around me. "You know, Nico, when I first met you I would have never guessed that you'd be this cuddly."

"Shut up, Solace."

Will didn't reply, maybe he was doing what I said, making a silent joke out of it, maybe he just didn't have anything to say. It didn't matter, he was holding me in his arms again and that's all I wanted.

I pulled away from him, smiling when I met his confused expression. I caught his chin gently and guided his lips towards mine. This time, I didn't pull away or even flinch, I just followed Will's lead. I wanted it to be perfect, even if I was sloppy and awkward and doubtful thoughts kept worming their way into my head, I was still kissing him and he was kissing me back. It was sweet and soft. It was enough.

 _Just for now. Just_ _this_ _once._

**-**

He held my hand during the walk home. I kept glancing around, worrying someone I knew would see us, but I didn't want to let go. I had to. I pulled him to a stop on a random stretch of sidewalk, he seemed to notice for the first time how worried and confused I looked.

"Nico?" He reached across the space separating us and took my other hand in his.

I shook my head, "I can't do this."

"What?" He didn't look surprised, just hurt.

Half of me wanted to run away and the other half wanted to hug him and never let go. I could just bury my face in his chest and pretend nothing else existed. It was funny because they were both completely different forms of hiding from my problems.

I squeezed his hands tighter, forcing myself to look him in the eye, "Will. . . I can't. . . I just. . ."

He looked down, closing his eyes and blowing out a breath into the frosty air. It came out as a cloud, stretching towards me and then dispersing into the air. "I know. I know, Nico."

"You do?" It felt like my heart was cracking open and yet I still tried to convince myself that I was doing the right thing.

He opened his eyes and met my gaze, one of his hands disentangled itself from mine and came to rest against my cheek. "When you kiss me you look scared."

I wanted to explain myself, to make him understand, but how could I? He was right, I was _terrified._ "I'm so sorry." My voice was shaking for reasons I didn't quite understand.

Will released my other hand and let his arm drop to his side. Something inside me snapped like a tether connecting me to him had suddenly been broken. "It's okay. I understand."

I nodded and we kept walking, but neither of us knew what to say. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but that went against everything I had just said. I had to stay true to my word or I would never get over this.

We said goodbye in the middle of the street between our houses, it didn't feel right. I turned and left, feeling like something was still unresolved, but I wasn't sure what it was.

I wanted to glance over my shoulder to see if Will was watching me go, to see the expression on his face, but I forced myself not to. I had the feeling that I didn't really want to see him standing there alone in the middle of the road looking like the life had been sucked out of him. It seemed horribly ironic that he had given me so much happiness and I had taken his away.

**-**

The next few days were strange. Being with Will felt strange, I couldn't so much as brush up against him accidentally without jumping and I hated it. I hated not being able to be comfortable around him. Our conversations were short and awkward, his smiles always seemed a little forced, a little bit sad.

This was my first friendship in so long and I had ruined it. The second I'd kissed him, I'd ruined everything. I'd ruined both of us.

I tapped the end of my pencil against my sketch pad, biting my lip. Nothing was on the page but a single line that made a mostly straight descent for a while and then veered to the right suddenly. It was how I always started out drawing him, the edge of his jaw. Only this time, I couldn't bring myself to continue.

I shut the sketchbook quickly and pushed it away from myself. I hadn't drawn anything but him in such a long time, and right then I decided that that would be my first step in getting over him. I wouldn't draw him anymore and any time he popped into my head, I would shove the thought aside. Gradually, I was trying to detach myself.

The next time I saw Will, I grinned at him and tried my hardest to remember what things had been like before and he caught on quickly. Eventually, we were laughing and talking just like we had prior to this whole mess, only now we never touched unless we had to get the other's attention or maybe just by accident. We didn't fall asleep in the same bed or sit with our shoulders pressed together while we watched a movie, he didn't pull me into his arms any time he thought I looked sad. I had to try and ignore the way it bothered me.

Will stood up abruptly from where he was lounging on the sofa across from me. "Come on, we're getting out of here."

I didn't question him, I just threw my jacket on while he pulled on a forest green beanie and his signature jacket, and followed him out the door. We'd been walking for ten minutes when I finally decided to ask where we were going.

Will just shrugged, "I don't know yet. Somewhere different, somewhere we haven't been yet."

We found ourselves passing by a park, everything was covered in a considerable layer of snow and there were only a few trails of footprints through the field of white next to the playground.

Will veered towards it suddenly, there had been a time when he would have grabbed my hand or my arm and dragged me along with him, but now he just charged forward and glanced back to see if I was following, smiling mischievously. And then he flopped over onto his back and started making a snow angel.

I laughed, "Did you take me all the way over here just for this?"

"Maybe." He smirked up at the sky.

I rolled my eyes, kicking a light dusting of snow over his face, which earned me a glare and an extremely uncalled for hand gesture. "Get up, you're going to be freezing if your clothes are all wet."

"That's half the fun."

"Oh, really? Well, don't co--" I yelped as he twisted and pulled on my leg, causing my feet to slip on the snow, which, in turn, sent me careening downwards onto my back. I hit the ground with an _"Oof,"_ and was met immediately with the sound of Will's laughter. I could pinpoint the exact time I had last heard it sound like this, like he was just laughing for the sake of laughing because he was _happy_ _._ It was the moment right before he'd kissed me on that roof next to Vinylust. But the little twinges of nostalgia or sadness, whatever they were, didn't change the fact that I wanted revenge.

I curled my hand into a fist, scooping up a handful of snow, and then I turned onto my side and smashed it into his face. This was followed by a few seconds of shocked silence, which I used to scramble to my feet and get a five-second head start.

I heard Will pulling himself to his feet behind me, I heard him as he started charging after me, yelling joking taunts at my back, but I didn't look back, I just kept running. I didn't even realize it when his footsteps were right behind mine until he careened into me and sent us both crashing back into the snow on our sides. I rolled away from him, laughing as he pulled himself into a sitting position to hurl handfuls of the cold powder at me.

I hauled myself onto my knees and started my counter attack. My hands were red and freezing from the cold, but I didn't really care. Will was laughing and covered in snow and so was I. For the first time in so long, we weren't worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing, of making the other person uncomfortable, we just having fun.

A clump of snow hit me right between my eyes and I gasped at the shock of cold and doubled my efforts, but Will was easily overpowering me and I was pretty much throwing blindly now, shutting my eyes against his assault and flinging as much snow his way as I could.

"OKAY!" I yelled, sputtering as another snowball splattered on my face, "TRUCE, TRUCE!"

Will laughed as I fell backward, sprawling out on the ground like I was exhausted. His face appeared above me, grinning and reddened with excitement and cold. "Do you admit defeat?"

He was holding a snowball threateningly so I knocked it out of his hand, laughing at the playful glare he gave me. "Yes, you win."

He sat back and I sat up. "See," I told him, gesturing to the snow melting onto his jacket and the way there were practically no dry spots on either of our pants, "now we're both going to be cold on the way home."

Will tugged off his beanie and pulled it on over my head instead. His eyes met mine and he hesitated very fractionally before pulling his hands away; his fingers brushed against my cheeks on the way and I felt a blush starting at the bridge of my nose.

"Now you'll be a little warmer." He had severe case of hat hair now and the ends of his mop of hair that hadn't been underneath the beanie were damp from the snow. His cheeks were flushed and his were bright and clear. I was suddenly aware that we'd been staring at each other for far too long and there was an expression on Will's face that was almost like. . .

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Nothing. Come on."

He stood up and held out a hand, I took it and let him pull me to my feet. "Thanks." I was only partially aware that Will held on just a little longer than was necessary.

He started turning around, but I caught his arm, "Wait." Will looked back at me, raising his eyebrows, "Let's stay for a bit."

"For what?"

I tipped my head towards the playground, taking a step towards it and pulling on his arm with a little smile on my face, "Come on."

Will looked amused, "Seriously?"

I grinned at him, letting go of his arm and beginning to walk towards it. "It'll be fun."

I heard him chuckle as he followed after me, lengthening his stride to catch up. "What are we going to do, go on all the slides?"

"No," I said, as if what he'd just said was completely absurd, "we're going on the swing set."

"Right," Will intoned sarcastically, "that makes perfect sense."

I elbowed him, "Shut up, I haven't been on one in years, and you've got to admit, they're pretty dang fun."

Will laughed, stepping off the curb that separated the grass from the wood chips, the snow made them look one and the same. "Yeah, I guess so."

We made our way past the jungle gym to the other side of the playground and sat side-by-side on the swings. I immediately backed up as far as the swing would let me and then let myself fly forward past Will, who was just kind of using his feet to sway backward and forward slightly.

He laughed as I pumped my legs to gain altitude and then leaned back as I swept past him again, looking at him upside-down and grinning.

"You're a dork," he informed me the next time I rushed past.

"You should try it. It's fun." I closed my eyes, loving the way the air felt rushing past my face, stinging my cheeks and making me feel more awake.

I heard Will's swing creek and looked over to find him backing up like I had a minute ago.

We spent the next couple of minutes laughing as we sped past each other, and then Will reached his hand out towards me and I grabbed it without him telling me to, just like I used to with Bianca at the park by our old house. I realized with a start that I hadn't even been to a playground since then. My arm was yanked slightly as our swings moved in opposite directions, and then I was pulled along with Will, using my legs and body to make up for the momentum I'd lost.

I let go of his hand when we were swinging perfectly together, kicking forward and back at the same time. We were both laughing and I found myself watching Will, his hair was flying around wildly in the wind and his eyes were closed. He looked so relaxed, at peace. 

He leaned back as we were pulled forward again. "Neeks, I'm flying!" he told me, and I laughed even harder.

"And you called _me_ a dork."

He opened his eyes to flash a grin my way, "I guess we're both pretty big dorks."

I grined at him, "We probably look it too."

He huffed, "No kidding."

We only swung for a few more minutes, but we stayed at the park for a long time after that, sitting on the swings and talking. It was getting dark now, and I was leaning my head against the swing's chain, looking at the playground, how abandoned and sad it seemed when it wasn't crawling with kids. Winter sucked the life out of everything even if its victim wasn't alive to begin with.

Will was sitting on his swing next to me and it was quiet, it had been for a while, but I don't think either of us minded. I looked over at him and found that he was already looking at me, my gaze caught his and he looked slightly startled.

I smiled at him, "Hi."

Will laughed quietly, "Hey."

I blew a breath into the air, watching it form into a cloud. "Today was a good day, Will."

He nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

There was something in his voice that pulled my attention back towards him, but nothing in his expression gave anything away. I had to admit that he looked good right then, even with messy hair and cracked lips he seemed to be soaking in the weak sunlight, making everything else look white-washed in comparison.

I searched his face for a second, wanting to say more, but not entirely sure how I could say it or what exactly I wanted to say anyway. "We should probably head back."

He nodded, standing up stiffly, sitting for so long in the cold probably isn't the best idea. As I followed him out of the park and down the street,\\\ I wanted to reach out and take his hand, some part of me knew that he wouldn't question it, but I couldn't, I made myself promise not to.

We stopped in between our houses just like we always did, stars were starting to appear in the sky above us and a street lamp was humming softly in the distance. We seemed to fall into a lot of familiar routines without even trying.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your beanie." I reached up to pull it off and Will caught my hand, "No, you keep it. You look nice. . . in it." He dropped his arm back to his side and I lowered mine uncertainly, grateful that the cold gave me an excuse for my cheeks to be burning red.

 _Nice._ My heart thumped against my ribcage and I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. "Thanks."

He nodded, a tiny smile pulling the corners of his mouth upwards. If I was honest with myself, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss him, but that would have just complicated matters more.

"I told you that I'd get you to wear something other than black, but you didn't believe me." His words had a laughing lilt to them now.

My mouth dropped open, "That is _so_ not fair--"

Will held his hand up, "You're wearing the beanie and you have been all day. _And_ you're not even trying to take it off now, so I win."

I shook my head, looking in the other direction and biting my lip, "I'll see you tomorrow, Will."

There was a brief pause.

"Bye, Neeks. Have a good night's rest."

I grinned at him, taking a small step back, "You too."

"Bye."

"Bye." I turned around and hurried back to my house before I could do something stupid.

**-**

Snow crunched under my feet and cold air wrapped around my fingers and soaked into my cheeks, I found myself wishing I had bundled up a little bit more. Tiny flakes were falling from the sky, adding to the layer that was already spread out over the ground. It seemed to muffle the world around me, it made it easier to get lost in my own thoughts.

I started off thinking about Percy and Frank. I had just spent the day checking over my shoulder and eventually failing to avoid them, after all. More than that, though, I was wondering what their lives were like.

 _She didn't deserve it,_ Percy had screamed.

 _It's_ _not_ _that simple,_ Frank had told me.

I knew there was something going on behind the scenes, something that I couldn't see. I shook my head, worrying about it wasn't going to help anything. So then, of course, my mind found its way to an even more useless topic: Will. My thoughts always circled back to Will and I'd stopped trying to fight it.

I found myself wondering what he was doing right then, if he was thinking of me too. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to just give in. I imagined holding his hand and not being afraid of it, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him whenever I wanted. It scared me because those thoughts, they didn't seem half bad and I wanted them so much. I reminded myself of the consequences, though, and I remembered how absurd those hopes were.

Then, suddenly, inevitably, my thoughts circled back to Percy. After all, it's hard not to think of someone when they're standing right in front of you, and Percy was, in fact, right there. I'd been so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn't seen him approaching and now he stood, blocking my path with his hands fisted and his stance wide. His expression didn't hold its usual flare, though, his eyes weren't alight with anger, his jaw was not set, and his mouth was not bent into a hateful sneer. He seemed almost dead, completely void of emotion, he looked tired.

I felt myself tense up almost immediately, already I was bracing myself for his lips to quirk into a mocking smile, for an insult to greet me like a slap in the face. A couple of silent moments passed between us, moments turned into seconds, and seconds piled up on top of one another until we'd been standing there for the longest minute of my life. Still, he was almost looking right through me like I wasn't even there.

"Get out of my way, di Angleo." I don't know what I had been expecting, exactly, but it was not for his voice to seem so hollow.

"Percy--"

"Move." He wasn't even looking at me now,  his gaze was planted on the ground, "I don't have the energy for you, right now, okay?" I guess I should have been relieved that he finally didn't see the fun in pounding my skull in.

I stepped to the side into the pile of snow that had been plowed off the sidewalk earlier. Now the cement had already disappeared beneath another layer of the stuff. Percy walked past me like he hadn't seen me, hadn't spoken to me at all.

I watched his retreating back for a couple of seconds. Part of me wanted to chase after him and demand to know what was going on, but I knew my attempt would be in vain and I'd only earn a new bruise or two, so I turned and walked in the opposite direction as him.

My thoughts swirled over the same topics over and over: Will. Frank. Percy. Will. Percy. Will. Will. _Will._ My dad. Octavian and Jason. Will again.

He was sitting on my porch when I got home, wearing his blue-grey jacket, of course. The hood was pulled up over his head and his face split into a cheeky grin that drove away the worried scowl on my face. He stood up to greet me, his hands stuffed into his pockets, he almost looked nervous.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" I exclaimed, trying to fight away the smile on my face, "It's freezing out here."

"You're not wearing the beanie."

I laughed, "I forgot about it this morning, okay? I'll wear it tomorrow."

Will grinned, "Good."

"Now, get inside." I started walking forward, but Will shook his head, "I want to show you something."

He grabbed my arm as he passed me, pulling me toward his house for a couple of steps. I followed after him when he let go and bumped my shoulder against his as I caught up to him in a few running strides.

He laughed down at me, "You have snowflakes in your hair," He tipped his head to the side, his lips twitching, "and in your eyelashes, actually.

I rolled my eyes at him as we walked up his driveway, "That's what snow does, Will. It sticks to things."

He shrugged, "Yeah, I know. It's just. . ." He never finished the sentence, just led the way up the steps and into his house.

"So, what did you want to show me?" I asked after he'd been tackle-hugged by Kit and then told her to go play in her room and he'd come tuck here in later.

Will looked over at me as Kit's door clicked shut, clucking his tongue at me, "So impatient. It's upstairs."

I tread after him into his room, where he ordered me to sit on his bed while he pulled something out of his closet. It was a cork board with all sorts of things pinned to it, photos mostly. Will sat next to me and laid it across both of our laps so that I could look at it with him.

It really was amazing, a collage of all of his favorite things, he said: the pictures he was most proud of taking, photos of old friends, a pressed flower glued at the top, a set of movie tickets, a cut-out picture of his guitar, clippings of his favorite characters from just about everything, song lyrics from his favorite bands and even a few that he'd written himself, little pieces of poetry that meant something to him, and drawing Kit had made for him. The thing that jumped out at me the most, though, was a picture of me.

I was sitting on the roof outside of my window and the sky was clear behind me, but my expression was clouded and desolate. I had an ugly bruise stretching over my cheekbone and I was staring off into space like there was nothing really important in the world to look at, anyway.

I pointed to it, feeling myself blush, feeling almost like he had captured a very intimate moment where he could see the darkness thriving inside me that I tried so hard to keep hidden. "When did you take that?"

Will immediately blushed and stuttered, "I. . . uh, d-don't. . . really remember, actually."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him and shook my head. "Yeah, okay. Whatever, Will. Have you taken other stalker pictures of me?"

I was probably enjoying seeing him flustered a little too much. "No!"

I laughed, elbowing him playfully. "I'm just teasing you, Will."

He answered with a grumpy sigh and a muttered, "Yeah, I know."

I turned my attention back to the board and tapped a little torn-off corner of notebook paper with the words, 'Hollow heart, hollow eyes. Broken promise, scattered lies,' scrawled on it. "You write that?"

Will nodded, "Uh, yeah. I never put it in a song, though, so I guess it's more like a little bit of poetry."

"I like it," I said, enjoying how he smiled shyly in response. "The pictures are also really nice. . . You have a lot of talent, Will."

His smile grew ten sizes, "So do you."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

Will stood up, pulling the board with him, and stowed it back in his closet. I was stretched out across his bed with my arms folded over my chest when he turned around and he laughed before coming to lie next to me.

"Why'd you want to show that to me?" I asked, making sure not to turn my head and realize how close we actually were.

He seemed to consider this for a few moments, "I don't know. . . I just thought you might like it."

"I did."

He shifted beside me and his knee pressed up against my thigh. "Then it was a pretty good idea."

I nodded, "You should show me your work more often."

"Only if I get to see more of your drawings."

I laughed a bit, "Deal."

Neither of us had anything to say for a few seconds, and then I smirked, "Will."

"Hm?"

"Since I'm on that board, am I one of your favorite things?" I joked.

He turned his head to look at me, snickering quietly. "Yes, you're my absolute favorite thing, actually."

I laughed up at the ceiling and Will's breaths filled the silence for a couple of seconds, soft and warm next to my ear. My own breathing faltered very slightly, but Will must have heard it, because the next thing I knew, he had shifted so he was leaning on his elbow and his lips were pressing tentatively against the skin just below my ear, and then the sharp corner of my jawline as it turned down to meet my chin and my mouth was open in awe and my eyes were closed. My fingers tightened around my wimpy biceps, needing something to hold onto, to give me a grip on reality. "Will?" I breathed, my heart racing as his fingers brushed over my other cheek and his lips worked their way over my jaw.

He kissed the corner of my mouth and I gasped very softly. With the slightest turn of my head, my lips were underneath his and my hands were tangled in his hair. Suddenly, his body was pressed down onto mine, stealing the oxygen out of my lungs in the most delicious way possible, and then he slipped his hands under my back and rolled so that I was on top.

My legs straddled him and his hands pressed into my back; every nerve in my body was singing, _"More. More,"_ as his lips guided mine in the most invigorating symphony of kisses. I pulled away with a maddening amount of self-restraint, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth briefly, making him gasp.

 _"Will,"_ I said, and his eyes opened, his fingers curling around my face.

"Nico?" he whispered back, a teasing smile playing over his features, and I touched my nose to his, clenching my eyes shut. Our heavy breaths swirled together in the air between us.

"I told you that I can't do this," I muttered, but I still didn't move away even though I was fully capable of rolling off of him any time I wanted to.

His fingers touched my face, tracing a line from my temple to my chin like he was analyzing an amazingly crafted sculpture. "I know."

"Then, why--"

He put a finger over my lips, "Because I don't think that's what you really want."

"Why?" I whispered after he pulled his finger away from my mouth.

"Because you would have pushed me away a long time ago if you did. You wouldn't have even kissed me back." He said it so surely that it caught me off guard. He was right, of course, there was no denying the fact that I wasn't trying to stop it. I finally pulled myself away and flopped onto my back next to him again.

"Let's just pretend that it is what I want, okay?" I muttered up at the ceiling.

Another brief silence, and then, "You don't have to believe exactly what everyone else does. You can believe whatever you want, Nico. You can--"

"Please. Please, don't make this any harder." My eyes shuttered closed, casting away unwanted thoughts and trapping them outside of me.

"I'm trying to make it easier. You shouldn't have to deny who you are to make other people happy."

"It's not who I am, Will. It doesn't define me." I knew that I didn't even sound like I believed myself. "And I'm doing this to make myself happy."

"You don't look happy."

I sat up quickly, unsettled by how easily he read me. "I have to go," I muttered.

Will didn't say anything as I slipped out the door.


	11. Words and Thoughts and Beautiful, Dreadful Things

I watched him all of the time.

I watched how most of his smiles came all at once without any warning, how they were always as bright as the sun.

I watched how he brought an aura of happiness wherever he went. His personality was absolutely infectious.

I watched how he walked with his shoulders relaxed and his strides quick and precise like he was completely content to let his feet take him wherever they wanted. Sometimes I was jealous of the way he didn't need to worry about walking too far and crossing a very thin line, stumbling and then _falling._ Falling far and fast down a void that was much too dangerous and much too appealing.

I watched how he cast glances over at me when he thought I wasn't looking, how he looked at me like I was something worthwhile.

I saw the way his hands were always restless, especially when he was meant to be sitting still. His fingers would be tapping rhythms out on his knee one second and then tugging on his hoodie sleeves the next, they'd make their way to the strings of his jacket, yanking and twisting the cords around themselves, and then he'd start pulling on his hair nervously and I just wanted to reach out and still his hands for a moment, kiss his knuckles or let him tangle his fingers into _my_ hair instead.

I wanted to tell him that I loved when he stopped to help people without a second thought. I wanted him to know that I even loved every single one of his flaws, the way he threw himself into everything he did with his whole heart and he got frustrated if you didn't do the same, how he had the tendency to treat even the most serious things like they were a game, how he worried himself sick about things he couldn't help. I even loved the way his temper sometimes flared when something he cared about was being threatened.

I knew all of his nervous habits, all of his facial expressions, all of his tells. His lips twitched whenever he lied as if he was disgusted with himself for doing it. Sometimes they did the same thing when he thought something was funny, but then it was different; he was trying to keep laughter inside, not truth, and his eyes sparkled then. I knew how his jaw clenched when he was angry and how he chewed on his lip whenever he was thinking about something intently.

I even saw him in my sleep, something I didn't even like admitting to myself.

I watched him always because everything he did demanded my attention. And I thought to myself, _How can I create anything beautiful when there is Will in the world?_

And that's when I started drawing him again.

**-**

I was beginning to hate myself more and more with every passing day. I was beginning to hate the fact that I couldn't seem to fight against this. I didn't want to admit that it was mainly because I really didn't want to.

It had been two weeks and three days since he'd last kissed me. Well, since I'd let him. I hadn't even realized that I'd been counting. I felt like I could never win, if I didn't let him kiss me, I regretted it, if I did, I still regretted it.

I considered cutting myself off from him completely, not answering texts or calls, not going over to his house immediately after school, speaking directly to him as little as possible until he eventually got the hint and left me alone. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made and the more scared I got. I walked around feeling like a shadow was looming over me, my palms began to sweat for seemingly no reason at all, I was constantly nervous and I wasn't sure why. I started folding in on myself, wanting more and more to just be left alone. It took me much too long to realize the cause of all of this: the fact that I was slowly making myself believe that I was going to have to push Will away one way or another. The thought made me absolutely sick, I could imagine how hurt he would be, how much seeing him like that would hurt me. How not seeing him at all would hurt me. I was telling myself that it would, at least, be for good reasons

"Nico?" Fingers snapping in front of my face, Will laughing at my startled expression, "You in there?"

I glared at him, my cheeks pinking, "Yeah."

His nose crinkled like he was looking at an adorable kitten, "Good," he said, tapping my nose with his pointer finger and making me blush even more.

I shook my head, looking away from him in an attempt to shove away the thoughts that were clouding my brain. "Have you decided on a movie yet?" I asked, shifting and tucking my legs underneath myself.

Will shook his head, "Why don't we go over to your house? You probably have better ones than I do."

I nodded and pulled myself off of his sofa, "It wouldn't hurt to check, right?"

He grinned as he caught my gaze. His smile made me feel annoyingly happy. "Right."

We made an unspoken decision to race across the street, laughing as my palms collided with my front door a second after his. Will was grinning cockily, opening the door and waltzing inside like he owned the place; I was following after him, trying to act annoyed but being betrayed by the dumb grin that had settled over my features.

Both of our heads snapped towards the kitchen as an excited bark sounded within and Mrs. O'Leary charged out and plowed into me. I stumbled back a couple of paces, laughing and ruffling her ears. "Hey, girl."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Will asked, trying to feign offense.

"Practically," I told him, and then we both looked up at the same time again as a laugh sounded in front of us.

My mom was leaning the doorway to the kitchen, smiling at us both. "Hardly, it's just that Nico, here, has been neglecting the poor dog."

"I have not!" I refuted, gaping at her.

Will was shaking his head disappointedly. "I thought you were better than this, Nico," he told me, running a hand over my dog's back, and then to her, he added, "It's alright, girl, I still love you."

I punched his arm playfully and Marie laughed again, "Well, you definitely haven't been spending as much time with her as you used to."

That was true, I used to spend practically every moment with her and now Will had taken her place. I frowned down at her happy face, "I'm sorry," I mumbled, and she licked my cheek sloppily. I wiped my face off on my shoulder, grinning triumphantly up at Will, who was rolling his eyes before I even started talking, "See, she forgives me!"

"Whatever, Neeks."

We made our way into the living room, Mrs. O'Leary trotting happily behind, and Marie disappeared back into the kitchen.

Will immediately plopped down in front of my entertainment center and began riffling through our movies, laying aside any he deemed interesting. I had thrown myself across one of our armchairs, one of my legs hanging over an armrest and my shoulders resting against the other. Mrs. O'Leary was sprawled out in front of the chair, her head resting on her paws.

"What d'you got?" I asked him, and he scooped up the pile of movies he'd collected, sorting through them and reading off the titles.

_"Ferris Bueller's Day Off--"_

"That one's hilarious, keep that."

 _"Miele--_ I have no idea what this is, but its cover looks interesting."

"No," I said, "it's way too sad. Plus, the whole thing is in Italian, which is fine for me, but--"

"Yeah, yeah _. Inception?"_

"Good movie. Maybe."

We continued the process until we'd narrowed it down to three films, at which point, Will dramatically narrated his process of elimination and decided on _Inception._ He threw himself across the sofa as it started playing and I found myself wishing I could curl up next to him and spend the hours watching in his arms.

I tore my eyes away from him and focused on the screen instead, but after a while, my gaze was pulled back towards him and I didn't try and look away. His shirt was riding up on his stomach slightly, revealing a small strip of skin that I had to fight not to stare at, but studying his face wasn't much better.

He suddenly shifted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. His mouth worked into a smile as he read whatever was on the screen.

"Who're you texting?" I wondered, and Will looked up in surprise and then shrugged.

"One of my friends. I met him at the supermarket."

I laughed, "How do you just become best friends with everyone without trying? I don't get it."

I knew Will had other friends, I'd never even met any of them, but sometimes when I wanted to hang out with him, he was already with them. Which was fine. I mean, it was kind of annoying, but fine. It's not like I didn't have a life other than him.

Will grinned at me, "I just have unearthly charm."

"Yeah, okay," I said, snorting disbelievingly.

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Hey, don't try and deny it." He smirked coyly, "You fell for it too."

I felt my cheeks heating up and I looked at the ceiling in an attempt at hiding it. "Sure, I did."

I saw him stretching luxuriously in my peripheral vision and turned my head lazily to watch him. His shirt rode up even further and his back arched against the couch, his muscles flexing and then relaxing slowly. I pulled gaze away again, shutting my eyes tightly. _Stop._

I was saved from myself by my mom poking her head in the archway. "Nico, Mrs. O'Leary is due for a bath and you've been putting it off for two days."

I sighed, knowing it was true, she was really started to stink, but I didn't want to deal with it right then. "Can't I just wait until tomorrow?"

Marie rose her eyebrows at me, tapping her finger against the doorframe, the message was clear: _That's exactly_ _what_ _you said the last two times._

I groaned and rolled off the chair, stepping over Mrs. O'Leary. "Uh," I said to Will, "you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

He just grinned at me and pulled himself off the couch, "No, it's cool. It sounds kind of fun, actually."

I laughed, "You've obviously never tried to give a massive Newfoundland a bath before."

"Then, it's time I do."

"Whatever, Solace."

Will promptly ignored me and studied Mrs. O'Leary instead, "So. . . Where are we doing this? Do you actually have a bathtub big enough for her?"

**-**

"This thing is huge! You could fit two of her in here!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the large tub in my parent's bathroom.

I shrugged, "More like one and a half."

Will regarded me dryly, "Like that makes a huge difference."

"It does, actually. . . but right now we should probably worry about actually bathing her."

"Good point."

We coaxed her into the tub and then Will turned on the water.

"Make sure it's not too hot. Just warm."

He nodded and adjusted the nob accordingly while I held back Mrs. O'Leary, who was already overly thrilled about the prospect of playing in water. We then set to work filling up huge Maverick cups and dumping them over her while simultaneously trying to keep her from jumping out of the tub in excitement.

Will pulled his hand away from her, wrinkling his nose at the obscene amount of dog hair on his hand, and I laughed. "Yeah, that tends to happen when she gets wet.

"You should be grateful that I'm putting myself through this for you," he told her, making me laugh again.

I yelped and then sighed in exasperation as she lunged towards me, spilling water over the side of the tub and soaking my jeans. "Okay, this isn't working." I stood up and stepped into the bathtub quickly while Will laughed at me, "I'll hand you stuff, you scrub, and I'll hold her."

"'Kay."

I grabbed a bottle of dog shampoo and passed it to him, "Make sure to cover her eyes when you rinse it out."

This worked for a couple of minutes until Mrs. O'Leary overpowered me and launched herself out of the tub, barking and nearly knocking over Will, who had to dive to avoid her. Torrents of water and soap cascaded onto the floor, but that was nothing compared to what I knew she was about to do.

 _"WAIT!"_ I yelled, lunging forward, but my dog was already shaking off her coat, sending water that carried about a pound of dog hair in it in every direction, splattering the walls and ceiling.

Will and I groaned in unison and she wagged her tail proudly, prancing in a circle before ducking playfully like she was getting ready to pounce. I climbed out of the tub and then wrestled Mrs. O'Leary back in with the help of Will.

Now we were both in the tub, with Will at the back end, sitting down and trying to scrub shampoo into Mrs. O'Leary's neck fur despite the fact that she was dancing expertly out of his grip every few seconds, and me standing up behind her, attempting to slather the shampoo into her back fur with very little success.

I sighed, giving up, and went turn the water back on so that I could start rinsing off her back. As I turned back around, my face was met with her wildly swinging tail, which made a loud, wet smacking noise across my cheek.

I jumped back, letting out a sound that was half surprised and half pained, causing Will to throw his head back and laugh, at which point, my dog lunged at him, knocking him backwards and attacking his face with huge, slurping kisses. I used this distraction to climb on top of her, my feet planted on the floor to either side of her (a feat I would not have been able to accomplish if Mrs. O'Leary wasn't practically laying down on top of Will, who was quite distressed), and started rubbing the soap into the back of her neck. Apparently, this wasn't a very good idea, because the Newfoundland immediately panicked and stood halfway up, carrying my entire weight for a moment, before she backed up quickly with her haunches in the air. This effectively propelled me forward and I fell over her head and landed with an ' _Oof,'_ on top of Will.

I quickly sat up, my hands to either side of his head. I was _very_ aware that I was supposed to be scrambling off of him and apologizing, but I was even more aware that he was grinning goofily up at me and he looked so absolutely _ridiculous_ with his hair plastered to his face, lying in several inches of bubbly water, and it was weirdly endearing _and_ I was straddling him in a bathtub. My parent's bathtub, of all places. With my dog, who was already throwing herself over the edge and flooding the entire place.

My lips started quirking into a smile and Will was looking more and more confused by the second, which just made the entire thing even more hilarious. Pretty soon I was just sitting on top of him, laughing my guts out at the ceiling and he was beneath me, tugging on my shirt and asking me _what in the world_ was so funny in the most exasperated voice I'd ever heard, making me laugh even harder.

"Will," I wheezed, looking back down at him and flattening my hands against his chest to brace myself, "we're in a bathtub."

He cracked an amused smile at me, "Yeah. . . I kinda got that. . ."

"And you look _so_ dumb."

Now he was laughing a little too, "Like you're one to talk, you have bubbles in your hair and you're cackling manically."

I made a very undignified snorting noise, "I know, and we're both soaking wet."

Will was staring at me and I wasn't quite sure of any of the emotions behind it.

"What?" I asked, still chuckling under my breath.

He just shook his head, laughing a bit, "You're an idiot."

"Shut up, Will."

He let out an amused huff, sitting up on one elbow to reach out and push his fingers through my hair, laughing loudly at how it stuck straight up due all of the hair product and water.

I shoved him playfully, "You wanna play that game?"

"Maybe I do."

Pretty soon we were laughing hysterically, running our hands through the other person's hair in an attempt to make them look as absurd as possible, occasionally splashing each other with water.

Will was leaning against the wall of the tub now, I was sitting in front of him, and Mrs. O'Leary was laying in a puddle in the middle of the bathroom. The walls and floor were spattered with even more soap, water, and dog hair from when she'd shook her coat out again a few minutes ago, which made the place look like the aftermath of a grooming business following a flood.

"You look like Donald Trump on a _bad_ hair day!" I gasped.

 _"Hey,_ that's just cruel!" he exclaimed, making me crack up all over again.

Will grinned and then worked his face into a business-like furrow, "I'm super rich, but I can't even afford to make my hair look halfway decent," he intoned, deepening his voice in what I assumed was supposed to be an impersonation of Donald Trump.

I immediately burst into more unrefined chortling, causing Will to grin proudly.

"At least I don't look like I've lived through the apocalypse," he gibed.

I fell back, sending water splashing against the sides of the tub and clutching my stomach. Will nudged me with his foot, "You okay, Neeks?"

"I'm great," I choked.

He snorted, "Yeah, okay. You need mental help."

"Probably."

We both broke down into a fit of giggles that was abruptly cut off by the door being opened.

"Hey, Mom was--" Hazel stopped in her tracks, her mouth dropping open, "What in the _world_ did you guys _do_ in here. . ." Now her eyes finally found their way to where we were sitting in the bathtub and she managed to look even more exasperated, "And _what_ are you doing now?"

Will and I were barely keeping from laughing until her last sentence, and then we completely lost it, Will throwing his head back and me turning onto my side, my entire body shaking with mirth.

"We just thought we'd make sure the tub worked properly," Will said between fits of laughter.

I made a weird hiccuping noise, "It does."

We both dissolved into hysterics again while Hazel watched us from the doorway like she was peering through the window of a mental asylum.

"Hazel," Our laughter quickly faded out at the sound of my mom's voice, "what's going on in-- _MY BATHROOM!"_

I sat up and Will stiffened immediately, I think we were both preparing for her to blow a gasket, but instead, she just blew out a long breath, looked at me, and in the most forcibly nice voice, said, "Nico, thank you for giving Mrs. O'Leary a bath, but next time, try and keep the bath _inside_ tub. . . and you should probably rinse the dog off." I was almost entirely sure that she would have completely freaked out if Will hadn't been there. Thank God for that boy.

I glanced over at where Mrs. O'Leary was panting happily up at her from the floor, taking note that she was still pretty thoroughly covered in soap suds. "Uh, yeah. . . sorry."

She sighed, glancing around the room once more and looking bewildered and partially furious, "Just know that you're going to have to clean this up."

Will and I both nodded frantically and she nodded back and left, probably not wanting to look anymore at the huge mess we'd made.

Hazel just shook her head at me, "You're so dead once Will is gone," and then she followed after my mom.

Will grinned at me, "I guess I'll just have to stay, then."

I nudged his leg with my foot, grinning back at him, "I guess you will."

**-**

We'd finished up Mrs. O'Leary's bath and spent an hour cleaning up the bathroom. Now, we were in my room, all three of us soaking wet. I was making Mrs. O'Leary lay on top of several layers of towels that I'd spread out over the wood floor.

Will was rifling through my clothes, trying to find something that might fit him. He already had a pair of dark grey, almost black, joggers that were too big for me, slung over his bare shoulder and now he was complaining about dark my wardrobe was.

"Don't you have anything that's _not_ black?" he asked me, glancing over his shoulder briefly to where I was standing, already changed into a new all-out black outfit. A smile flashed across his features, "Well, besides the beanie."

I laughed at him, "Why would I, if I don't plan on wearing anything that's not black?"

Will shrugged, "Seems like it would get kind of depressing after a while."

My smile fizzled out, "That's kind of the point."

That made him turn and face me, his brow was furrowed, "What?"

"Well. . ." My gaze dropped downwards and I noticed that his soaked jeans were slung dangerously low on his hips. My eyes flicked back to his quickly, my cheeks flaming. "It's sort of a reminder. Just. . . don't worry about it, okay?"

I turned away from him and went to sit on my bed.

"Okay."

He went back to sorting through my stuff and then after a while, he held up two black t-shirts, "I think this one is a darker shade than this one, what do you think?"

I just gave him an extremely unamused look.

Will pretended not to notice, "Yeah. . . I think I like this darker shade better. It definitely suits my complexion more the lighter shade." He proceeded to make a big show out of holding the shirts up to himself in the mirror, pretending to be deep in thought.

I let out a little huff of laughter, "Shut up, Will."

He grinned, "How many times do I have to tell you, there's no way you're going to shut me up."

I just smiled and shook my head at his back as he turned around, my brow furrowing as he gasped and plunged his hand into my drawer excitedly, "NICO!"

"Uh. . ."

He pulled something out of the drawer and whipped around to face me, holding it out so that I could see, "You do own something that's not black!"

I shrugged, noting that he was holding up a deep purple dress shirt. "I have relatives that ship things to me from Italy occasionally."

Will grinned, "You _have_ to wear this."

"No, why don't you wear it?" I asked grumpily.

He held one up to himself pointedly, proving that it was approximately three sizes too small for him, "Seriously?"

I rolled my eyes, "Okay, so it won't fit you, but there's no way that I'm wearing it either."

"But, _Neeks."_

"I am _not_ wearing that."

He pouted at me for a few seconds, giving me his very best puppy-dog eyes, but I am proud to say that I actually succeeded in glaring at him the entire time.

"No," I deadpanned, "there's absolutely no way that you're making me."

His face twisted into an expression that was worryingly mischievous. "We'll see about that."

"No, we won't."

Will shrugged, looking all too confident, "You'll wear it eventually."

"Yeah," I scoffed, "and you'll start liking rap music."

"Now, that's just absurd," Will said, smiling like I'd said something cute. "Me liking rap music. . ." he muttered to himself, turning around.

I rolled my eyes at him, but I was smiling.

Will eventually found a shirt that was a semi-decent fit. It was tight on him, barely stretching over his broad shoulders and muscled arms, it was just long enough to extend to the hem of his pants and every time he raised his arms at all, a strip of skin appeared. I laughed at him for it, glaring when he pointed out that it only didn't fit him because I was so small, but secretly, I had to fight not to stare at him the entire rest of the day.

When it was time for him to leave, he leaned down without any warning and pressed his lips to my cheek. "Bye, Neeks."

I raked a hand through my hair, glaring at his back as he practically bounced down the steps and across the street. My cheeks were burning. _Coglione._

I whipped around and half-angrily slammed the door to the house closed, trying to ignore how my heart was racing.

**-**

Sometimes I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to disappear and forget about all of the stupid things that I had to worry about. I wanted to forget about school and homework and bullies and confusion. I wanted to be on my own and read all of the things I had ever planned on reading. Paint all of the things worth painting. I wanted to discover and feel everything. But I didn't want to _feel._ I only wanted to feel the things that I _wanted_ to feel. Sometimes I just wanted to be alone.

Alone meant a lot more to me than being by myself.

It was ironic that Will called right then and asked me if I wanted to go with him to a party that he'd been invited to. I didn't like the idea, parties were the exact opposite of solitude and I was sure that this one would mean meeting hoards of new people. People that I would have to say _something_ to. People who Will would know and be familiar and comfortable with. It wasn't hard to guess that I'd be pushed to the sidelines by default.

"Parties aren't really my thing, Will."

"Why?"

"It's too crowded and loud. . . too many people. I just don't like them."

I could almost hear the clock ticking in Will's brain. "I'll be there. You won't even have to talk to them very much. You can talk to me."

"I know. . ."

"Please, Nico. I just don't want to be alone."

_I want to be alone_ _, Will._

"You wouldn't be alone, you would have your other friends. You wouldn't even miss me." I didn't want to believe that it was true. I wanted Will to miss me. The realization came as a subtle shock.

He was silent for too long, "It's not the same. . . I don't know them as well as I know you."

He never said that he would miss me. My eyes fell shut.

"I thought you said that you felt like you don't really know me. I thought you couldn't figure me out." I knew sounded tired, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"I think I know you a little better now. I think I understand you a little better, di Angelo." His tone was somehow desperate, like he was subtly trying to tell me something extremely important.

I let a silence stretch out between us for a while.

"Solace." I said it like a statement, not his name.

I could imagine the confusion on his face and it made me smile. "Hm?"

"Solace means comfort. . ." I wasn't sure why I was saying it, my voice was barely loud enough to be audible.

"Yeah. . ." He was still confused and his voice was quiet and far away.

_"Conforto."_

"What did you just call me?"

I laughed, "It means solace. . . comfort, in Italian."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So, will you come to the party with me?"

"Are you ever going to take 'No' for an answer?"

I could practically hear the grin on his face, "No."

"Then I'll go."

"Good. I don't think I'd go without you."

We stayed on the phone for a long time after that, but we didn't say anything. I could hear his breaths on the other side of the line and I didn't really want to hang up. I didn't know why. It was funny how I'd wanted so desperately to be alone and now I was clinging to anything resembling Will's presence.

"Let me come over."

"Okay."

I spent the entire rest of the day alone with Will. Alone was a lot more than being by myself.

**-**

The night of the party I just wanted to be alone again. Really and truly alone.

I had to force myself to get up and get ready. I had to tell myself over and over that I would have a good time, that things would be okay because I would be with Will, but I didn't really think it was true.

Will grinned so widely at me when I arrived at his house that I thought his face would break, and then he'd seen what I was wearing and let out an excited gasp, "YOU'RE WEARING SOMETHING OTHER THAN BLACK."

My cheeks were so red they could have passed for stop signs and I was glaring holes into his chest. "Shut up, it's the only nice shirt I own."

That wasn't true, it wasn't even the reason I'd decided to wear the midnight purple dress shirt in the first place. If I was honest with myself, I'd done it purely for Will. Simply because I'd wanted to see the expression on his face, and now I was half deeply regretting that decision and half fighting to keep myself from grinning back at him.

"I told you that you'd wear it eventually."

I grabbed his arm and pulled him outside, "Shut up, Will. We have a party to get to."

It was a surprisingly warm night, most of the snow had melted, and I'd opted not to wear a jacket. Will, on the other hand, refused to leave home without his beloved hoodie and was subconsciously winding one of the strings around his finger as we made our way down the street to wherever this party was at. We'd been walking in comfortable silence for a while and I was lost in my own thoughts, mindlessly following Will as he turned corners and crossed streets.

At one point, I glanced up at him to find that he was already looking at me. He didn't seem to realize that my eyes were on him, his gaze was traveling slowly up my form, making me feel unbelievably exposed. His eyes moved across my neck and then swept lazily up to my face, widening to the size of dinner plates when he noticed that I was watching him.

His face turned bright red and I laughed at him even though my own face was probably even worse than his and I was fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my torso self-consciously.

Will quickly flicked his gaze back forward, muttering under his breath that we were almost there. I noticed that the blush stayed fastened to his cheeks for a long time after that and he was chewing his lip and tugging on his hoodie's strings. Will Solace was flustered and, for some reason, I was extremely proud of the fact.

He cast a nervous glance over at me, saw the huge, proud grin on my face, and immediately glared at me and then stared at his shoes with his hands tucked stubbornly into the pockets of his jeans until his face faded back to its normal color.

It wasn't hard to guess which house we were supposed to be at once we turned down the street it inhabited. The lawn was littered with random, assorted trash and we could hear shouts and music all the way out here. Lights flashed weakly in the window through curtains that were drawn tightly together, probably caused by some cheap disco lights they'd bought at Target; I was surprised one of the neighbors hadn't called the police on them yet.

"Will. . ." I muttered uncertainly, but he was already walking up the driveway with an excited grin on his face.

"It's just like the movies, Nico!" he exclaimed, and I sighed, hurrying to catch up with him. A smile touched my face, though, it was just so _Will_ to get excited about something like this; a low-budget, crappy party that was mainly too much alcohol and bad dancing and not enough food and good music.

A guy with curly brown hair and blue eyes opened the door. He was tall, even taller than Will, and he was wearing the douchiest clothes of the century paired with messy hair and a huge, drunken grin.

 _"Wiiiillll!_ Bro, I haven't seen you in _forever!"_

It took everything I had not to roll my eyes and leave right then, but I was doing this for Will. _I'm doing this for Will. I'm doing this for_ Will _,_ I told myself.

"Hey. . . Connor?" Will asked uncertainly.

"Travis," the guy corrected, and then he looked over at me with a weird lopsided smile, "We're not even twins, but everyone gets us mixed up." He laughed quietly to himself and then hiccupped.

I consoled myself with the fact that Will was grimacing, at least this wasn't one of his close friends, one of the people I would have to tolerate for the entire night. Travis stepped back and waved us inside, "Come on _iiinnnn."_ He sounded like a stereotypical stoner dude.

After that, everything was pretty much a blur of faces; people called out to Will and he pulled me through the crowd and introduced me to them. I wanted to hide behind him and bury my face in his shoulder or, better yet, sink into the ground and never come back up. I had no idea what to say or how to act, people laughed when I stuttered responses, when I cast panicked glances over at Will.

It was okay at first, I was managing, I was staying close to Will and he was making sure that I knew I was never forgotten. Until he started forgetting. Until I became just a shadow tagging along behind him.

_You don't even miss me._

I was getting surrounded by people who were trying to talk to me, laughing drunkenly, I was trying to push through them and get back to Will. I would be safe with Will. Will was my lighthouse, guiding me back to safety. Except I don't think he realized that I was caught in a storm.

_Please, please help me._

He didn't seem to notice that I was terrified.

At one point I was standing alone in a small, two-by-two space while people circulated around me. There was too much noise, it was too hot, too many people for this small house. _Too much._

Will was three feet in front of me, holding a drink that someone had pressed into his hand, he was laughing along with a group of about five people, and he made it look so _easy._ He made it look like he'd done this a hundred times, and what did I know? He probably had.

Some girl was smiling at him like a panther, all teeth and no soul. Her skirt barely covered anything and her top wasn't much better. Will wasn't even looking at her, it almost made me laugh, except he was talking to someone else, a boy who was fixing him with a look that was more veiled but still laced with the same intentions. I felt sick. It didn't matter that Will wasn't flirting back, all I knew was that this guy was barely an inch shorter than Will himself and he had shocking green eyes, muscled arms that stretched his t-shirt, carefully styled light brown hair, and perfect skin.

I couldn't stick around and watch this. I had to get away. _Alone._ I needed to be alone.

Bodies were pressing in on me from all sides, and now I understood claustrophobia. I didn't feel safe or protected, I felt like I was slowly suffocating and I couldn't get out. I had to shove my way through the crowd, choking and ignoring angry comments and dirty looks until I broke through to an open space.

I stood there, gasping for breath for a few seconds and then I continued making my way through the mass of limbs and torsos bit by bit until I found myself at the edge. Things weren't much better here, now there were people pushed against walls, kissing and touching, and I had to look away. I was invading on a moment that was much too private for me to be witnessing.

I was lost and alone and I shouldn't have left Will. I could almost image him and that boy pressed against each other like the people that were behind me now. I could almost imagine Will smiling against his lips, finally, he would be kissing someone that was actually worth his time. I should have been fine with that, I shouldn't have cared, but I did. I cared _so much_ and I wasn't in the mood to deny it.

I needed to find him and stop it. I imagined the scene, it would be like one of those cheesy movies. Maybe Will would be leaning close, his eyelashes drawn and his mouth stretched into a cat-like smirk. The other boy would be much the same, and they would be firing witty comments at each other, casually touching for no reason at all, enjoying the game they played. And then I would come in, my mouth drawn and my shoulders tense, trying to seem intimidating and failing miserably, but still, Will would see me and his smile would falter. The boy would turn and be confused when he saw me, _Why does Will care about_ him _?_ I would march right up to them and grab Will by his collar, kiss him with everything I had, and realization would hit the boy. Will was _mine,_ not his.

The 'music' was barely more than a long string of cuss words over heavy bass and loud, pulsing instruments that made my head ache. I started looking around frantically, trying to find golden hair and a heart-breaking smile, but there was just too many people. People dancing and grinding against each other, people downing drinks, people playing stupid games, people laughing and shouting over the impossibly loud music. I just needed to get away.

If I couldn't find Will then I had to get away from everything else.

I ducked and shoved and elbowed my way across the room until I reached a staircase. I flew down it and across the room, as far away from _everything_ that I could possibly get. I pushed my shoulder blades into the wall, letting it carry my weight, pressing my palms into my eyes, taking huge gulps of air and forcing them out as steadily as possible. _I'm okay. I can be okay. I'm okay. I can be okay._

I'm not sure how long it was before I heard footsteps clapping closer to me, I was still shaking and I didn't pay them any attention until the person spoke

 _"Nico."_ My name sounded like so much more than a scramble of four letters when he said it. _Will._ Of course it was Will. Of course he would be the one to notice that I was missing. He was the only one who cared.

Some part of my brain was aware that Will had left _him,_ with the perfect body and beautiful eyes, for _me,_ weak and dull and sad.

I didn't look up as he approached me, but I also didn't resist when he pulled my hands away from my face gently and gripped them in his. I didn't want to open my eyes, though, keeping them closed made me feel more anchored.

"Neeks?" He let go of one of my hands to cup my face, I let it drop down against his chest and pressed my cheek into his palm, taking another slow breath. I didn't even think about pushing him away or ducking out of his arms, I just knew that his presence was comforting. He made me feel safe. He made me feel like I was at home.

There was a beat of silence, I think he was startled at my response, and then I felt his nose touch mine and my eyes fluttered opened to find his staring into them. I wondered if he could feel the pulse in my hand jump the way I could feel his heart pounding against the palm of my hand that was pressed into his chest.

I was just now realizing how close he was to me. The toes of his shoes were barely an inch from being flush with mine. All I could hear were our breaths and the muted blaring of the music in the other room. Will was the only thing I could see, he was the only thing I could feel other than the wall against my back and the floor beneath my feet, but even the earth was unsteady compared to him.

His hair was messy and tangled and his clothes were rumpled, but still, he was like a piece of art, every line carefully placed, every stroke of color meant to draw the eye and steal away breath. His eyes were cast down and half-lidded so that his eyelashes contrasted prettily against his skin. There was the barest space between his lips and they were full and warm and inviting. I knew that expression. I saw it sometimes when I dreamt and it made my blood rush.

I pulled myself up, stretching towards him until the fingers of the hand that had been resting against my cheek pressed against my lips instead.

"Wait." The word was a breath laced with regret. "Do you really want to do this?"

I opened my mouth to answer and he pulled his fingers away, his hand hovered in mid-air for a second, like he was unsure what to do with it, and then he let it settle onto my waist.

The sound of our breaths again, the warmth of his hand in mine. I laced our fingers together, "I _really_ want to." My voice seemed unusually low to my own ears.

I could tell by his expression that he heard the underlying meaning in the words, _But I shouldn't._ He didn't step away from me, though, but that was okay, I didn't want him to. We stood there like that for a couple of drawn out moments, soaking each other in. He leaned his forehead against mine.

"I like you a lot." There it was, out in the air between us, a breathy confession that only we could hear.

Will shut his eyes, "I like you a lot too, Nico." He sounded almost broken, and my grip tightened on his hand momentarily, my lips pressing together and my chest constricting. I was always so caught up in how hard this was for _me,_ I'd never even considered the effect it had on Will. My gut twisted in on itself. How could I be so completely _selfish?_

"Kiss me."

He opened his eyes, I could tell he didn't think I meant it. "You might regret it."

"I don't care, Will." I barely had to tilt my head to connect our lips.

It started out slow and gentle, Will reached up with one hand and pushed his fingers through my hair, making me sigh against his mouth. I had wanted this for so long, it was a breath of relief and elation, I felt like I was finally breathing properly. His other hand was still woven tightly with one of mine and my left hand was flattened out against his chest; I could feel his heartbeat thumping underneath his skin. It was beautiful how his lips came alive underneath mine, how he melted against me. I marveled the way I could feel him smiling against my mouth, the way every tiny sigh, the barest movement of his lips, sent energy running over me.

For the very first time, I was barely thinking about myself at all when I kissed him. I wasn't worrying about being clumsy or awkward, I wasn't second-guessing my every move, feeling my insecurities press in on me, convincing myself with every passing second that I should stop; I was barely even thinking about what my lips and hands were doing. Instead, I was completely focused on Will. I was remembering his head thrown back, his face spread into a grin, his laugh, his beautiful singing voice, his gorgeous eyes, his hands, his anger, his hurt, his grief, his joy, the very first time I'd seen him and thought that he made me seem _so_ insignificant, _everything._ It seemed utterly stupid that I hadn't been thinking of him all of the times this had happened before. How could I _not_ have been thinking of him when we were pressed this close together, when I could taste what he'd been drinking still lingering on his lips?

It seemed fitting that my first taste of alcohol should be right then, when I felt so absolutely drunk already. The harsh flavor didn't match the elation of the moment, though.

My hand fisted itself into Will's shirt, pulling him closer, and he pressed me back against the wall. His hands were flattened against the plaster on either side of my head; one of my hands was trapped beneath his, but I barely noticed.

His lips were guiding mine, nudging them apart so that his tongue could explore my mouth. My hand slipped out from under his with some difficulty, and now both of them were pressed into his back, moving upwards over his light muscles and t-shirt. My fingers dug into his shoulders and then he was gone, tearing a gasp from my mouth.

I stared at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily, and then my mouth started quirking into a smile. Will's face made its way through about fifty expressions in one second: apprehension, fear, hope, shock, everything in between those, and then, finally, all of his teeth appeared at once, making up his signature ear-to-ear grin that made me grin back every time without fail. It seemed so childish, the way we were smiling at each other stupidly, especially because of what we'd been doing not two seconds ago, the intimacy of it. I didn't care, though, I wanted Will to know the way I glowing inside. The way I didn't care about anything at all right then other than him.

He stooped down again, capturing my lips in his, touching my face lightly with one of his hands. I never wanted it to end. The floor beneath me was spinning and I was given the impression that Will was holding me steady, so I clutched at him and gasped when he responded and it made everything tilt and slide even more.

I wanted to make him forget everything except for me. I wanted him to forget the boy with the teasing smile and green eyes, I wanted him to forget his friends, upstairs drinking and laughing and dancing. I wanted him to believe that I was all that was left, that my lips were the only thing keeping him there. I wanted this to be the moment that came back to him over and over again, that made his blood pump faster and his hands twitch the way they did when he was yearning to be holding his guitar so that he could try out a new riff. Except it would be _me,_ not the guitar, that he would be thinking of.

He sighed my name, it sounded beautiful, so I whispered his name back, pulling away for just a few moments to kiss his throat. His fingers faltered against my back, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and his face was tilted upwards, his mouth open slightly.

 _"Dio_ _,"_ I muttered, and he looked back down at me, his face on the verge of sinking into worry and fear. _No,_ I couldn't let him think that I didn't want this to be happening. "You're so. . . beautiful. You're so, so absolutely _beautiful,_ Will." The words slipped from my mouth and I realized that they were true, Will Solace was even more gorgeous than any painting or photo could ever capture.

He laughed and it made my heart stutter. His hand came up and brushed hair away from my face so that he could kiss my forehead, "However beautiful you think I am, you're a _million_ times beyond that."

Right then, I believed it was true, at least, I believed that he believed it. Why else would someone like  _him_ be anywhere near me?

I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his chest. Will smelled like rain-- or more the after effects of it: wet cement, soil, grass, and the taste of newly cleared air-- and something else, something like almonds but not quite, maybe softer, a bit muskier. It reminded me of warmth and home, it was a scent I'd only ever found on him. And a faint trace of alcohol, it was pungent and it didn't belong, not here, woven into the soft colors of his shirt.

"Do you want to leave?" he whispered to me, and I nodded.

"But I don't want to be alone." It felt oddly wonderful to be so straightforward for once, so I decided to try it out again. "I want to be with you. You make me feel safe."

His arms tightened around me and I felt his face press into my hair,"We can go back to my house."

**-**

We did, and now we were curled around each other in his bed, both of us wearing his pajamas, our foreheads pressed together and our legs hopelessly tangled. We were whispering to one another and every now and then he would kiss me and we would laugh against each other's lips. I couldn't believe I had deprived myself of him for so long. His touch and his kisses and his sweet voice making comments that brought smiles to my face.

"I'm so sorry, Will," I muttered, tracing his collarbone.

"For what?" His voice hitched as I brushed my fingers over his neck and jawline.

My thumb touched his bottom lip, "For putting you through that. I mean, you like me. . ." My voice trailed off uncertainly and his mouth twitched into a smile.

"I do," he reassured me. "You don't even have to worry about that, Neeks."

I smiled back, but with a twinge of sadness, "And I acted like I didn't like you back for _so long,_ but you never gave up on me. I don't understand why, but you never did." _I still feel guilty every time you kiss me. I still feel guilty even looking at you._

"It's okay, Nico. I stuck around because I understand why you were afraid, and, more importantly, because I like you much too much too to let you get away that easily."

I felt myself smile without me even consciously trying at all, it had been a while since that had happened. "Can I tell you a secret?" I whispered, half serious and half teasing.

He nodded, "Anything." His eyes were dancing with laughter.

I started mentally counting all of the individual freckles on his face, I got to nineteen before I spoke. "I'm still afraid, but I don't care." It was true, there was still doubt gnawing at the back of my mind, no matter how much we might wish it, insecurities, fears, beliefs, anything that's holding you back, does not vanish all at once. It's a long process to find freedom. I still felt guilty for letting myself indulge in him, like he was a drug, but he was the most beautiful narcotic I'd ever heard of and I didn't care if doing this would tear me apart later.

Will chuckled, releasing the pent-up amusement in his eyes as he shifted and draped an arm over me. "Everybody is a little scared, Nico."

I started counting again, I had to restart three times. "Did you know that you have exactly one hundred and twelve freckles on your face?"

Will opened his eyes, laughing at me, "Is that what you've been doing this whole time?"

I grinned at him, reaching out to brush my thumb from the edge of his cheekbone, over the bridge of his nose, and across his other cheek, where most of his freckles were. They were light, only a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, so you couldn't see them unless you were up close, and he had a few sprinkled around his eyes. "My grandma used to say that freckles are kisses from the sun and the more you have, the more the sun loves you."

Will smiled, "That's cute."

I laughed, "Yeah, well the sun can _andare fanculo,_ because you're mine."

He laughed too, a lot louder than me. "You're priceless, Neeks."

I beamed at him, "I know."

That earned me a playful one-handed shove that didn't really do anything since we were laying down. "Come on, you need to sleep."

I snuggled closer to him and buried my face in his chest. I was already half gone the next time Will spoke.

"Nico?"

"Hm?" I could feel exhaustion tugging on my mind, begging me to just give in and drift off, but I pushed it away, I wanted to hear what Will was saying.

"Earlier, you said that I was yours." He sounded anxious.

I tightened my arms around him and muttered a sleepy, "Yeah."

"Are you. . . I mean. . ." He buried his face in my hair and his next sentence sounded muffled and rushed, "Did you mean it?"

"I'm not letting anyone else take you. . ." I stated instead of directly answering his question. My own voice was thick with sleep and my words seemed almost slurred.

In the back of my mind, I knew I was being selfish. Will deserved someone who could give him everything he needed without feeling regretful afterward. But I didn't want to let him go.

He let out a breathy, relieved laugh, "I don't want anyone else, Neeks."

I just pressed closer to him, like that could portray the swirling mass of emotion in the pit of my stomach.


	12. And So I Thought

Hate and love. They were words that everyone just seamlessly agreed shouldn't be thrown around carelessly. They were _strong_ words. _Opposite_ words with the same intensity. No one ever talked about the strength of the word "need," though. No one ever mentioned how terrifying it was to wake up and _need_ to know that he was still there, how when I stretched out my hand, fingers searching out warm skin with his name the very first thing on my mind and on my lips and found nothing but empty space and blankets filled with his smells, I would have never imagined it would tear at me so much. No one ever mentioned how much it hurt to _need._

My eyes fluttered open wide, scrunching against the bright morning light as I raised myself up on my elbow. I was panicking for some reason, like it wasn't a normal thing for a person to get up and walk around their house, like Will not being there was just the first step in him pulling away from me.

"Will?" I called, my voice was slightly scratchy from sleep.

Almost as if he'd heard me, his bedroom door opened and he stepped across the threshold, already showered and changed and wide awake. I felt a slight kick of annoyance and then affection. _Morning person._

His gaze fell on me and he grinned widely, there was something wary and afraid about it, though. It made me want to drag myself out of bed and pull him into my arms.

"Look who's finally awake."

I flopped back onto the bed, burying my face in his pillow. Now that he was here, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I forced my mind to bring the next part to the surface instead of just letting it remain a suggestion in my subconscious like I'd trained myself to do with every thought like it, _I want to go back to sleep. . . preferably with Will's arms around me._ The words brought a tangled mix of anxiousness, excitement, and embarrassment like there was someone else besides myself that I was sharing them with. "'M not awake."

There was a silence while his bare feet made their way across the carpeted floor and then his breath was ruffling my bangs and his fingers were touching my cheek carefully. "Night owl."

"Early bird," I shot back, opening my eyes. Despite everything, there was still a moment of faltering hesitation where I stared into his eyes, so blue and so warm, and doubted everything, feared all of the possible outcomes, felt them press in against my chest like a physical force. There was a moment when everything hung in the balance, where I could have hurriedly climbed out of his bed, apologized for everything, and broken his heart all over again, but instead, I leaned forward and kissed him softly. He tasted like mint and I broke my heart instead, because I was afraid of a day when I would look back at this and feel only regret.

He wrinkled his nose at me playfully, "You need to brush your teeth, Neeks."

"Shut up, I'm not going all the way across the street."

"It's not that far."

"Hmph." I turned my face into his pillow.

His breath tickled my jaw teasingly the next time he spoke, "Then no more kisses." It took a trained ear to catch the hesitation in his voice, the lingering question. I thought it might have been, _Do you care?_

I actually made a little whining noise, which I can't say I'm proud of.

I heard him laugh, it sounded relieved. "Fine, you can use my toothbrush."

I looked up at him in surprise, "Really?"

"Nico, my tongue has been in your mouth, I don't really think it matters at this point."

I knew I was blushing and Will knew I was blushing and I hated that. "Yeah, but do you really want all of my gunk in your toothbrush?"

"Do you _want_ to go across the street to brush your teeth?"

I rolled my eyes and pulled myself out of his bed, stepping around Will to make my way to his bathroom while he called after me that his toothbrush was the orange one. I found myself, hands braced on his sink, staring into the mirror and studying my face, wondering what Will, with his beautiful features and strong jaw, saw in me. My nose was bony and almost looked crooked, my lips were thin, my eyes were boring, I was too skinny. There were faint suggestions of dark circles under my eyes and my hair was messed up. I looked tired and it didn't sit well at all on my features. Nothing did, really.

My hand shook a little as I reached up to touch my lips cautiously like I was afraid that they'd gone through some shocking change after kissing Will, after _indulging_ in Will. The memory of it, ghosting over my senses, made a trill of excitement echo through me, but underneath that was a lingering sense of dread.

_What am I supposed to tell my parents?_

_Is this really worth it?_

_I'm throwing my religion out the window, maybe even more._ _Why am I even doing this?_ I asked my reflection. Sometimes I wished it would just answer back instead of making me dig up the darkest parts of myself alone.

 _Either_ _this_ _ends_ _sometime and you get your heart broken or it never ends_ _and_ _you won't know anything else._ I didn't know which one scared me more. That was a lie, I was lying to myself again.

I remembered Will's voice, the tremor in it when he'd asked me if he was really mine, and my chest gave a little heave. He'd been so afraid and then so relieved and I couldn't take that from him, didn't even want to, because he was _important._ Important didn't seem to be a strong enough word for Will. _Vital_ was a bit closer.

"I'm doing this because of him," I told my reflection. Taking a deep breath, pushing it out, telling myself I needed to say this out loud. "He's the best thing I've ever known and I can't just let that go. I _can't."_ Letting that sink in for a second, _making_ myself believe it because I couldn't do this at all if it wasn't true.

I brushed my teeth quickly and then hurried to his room again. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed when I entered and he grinned at me like we hadn't seen each other in ten years. "Come here."

He was beautiful. _Dio,_ he really was. I wondered when I had started thinking of him like that. When had Will Solace become _b_ _eautiful_ in my eyes? Maybe he always had been. The tilt of his mouth and the gentle slope of his shoulders definitely seemed to suggest it.

Every step brought me closer until my knees were almost pressed into the side of his bed and then I pulled myself onto it and crawled over to him. He smiled softly at me the whole time, crinkled his nose in amusement at the shy blush on my cheeks.

I was sitting with my knees pressed into his shins but apparently it wasn't enough. He reached out and urged me closer until I was in his lap with my legs wrapped around his torso. I wanted to press my face into his chest and wrap my arms around him too, but he was staring at me with such intensity that I couldn't look away.

"What?" I whispered, because it felt wrong to speak any louder.

Will's fingers circled my face, his lips brushed the tip of my nose, "Nico."

I felt myself smiling, eyelids fluttering closed, _"Will."_

His lips brushed over mine and I reacted to him almost instinctively. It was like gasping for breath after holding myself under water for too long. I didn't have to do it, but I needed to. I didn't even have to try, it just happened.

Need. _Dio,_ I _needed_ Will Solace

I was kissing him and warmth was spilling through my chest, but still, my hands were shaking against his cheeks. He pulled away from me, his face clouded with worry. I hated making him worry so much. I wanted to make him happy.

Kissing him shouldn't have been like this.

"Nico, are you sure you're okay with this?" He was brushing his thumb over my cheek, the way he always did to remind me that he was there, that he cared. I loved it.

I wanted to stop trembling but I couldn't, so I pulled my hands from his face and hid against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. He was so steady and sure and I thought that maybe he could share some of his strength with me.

"I'm just. . ." _terrified._ "Everything is so conflicted, Will. I like you, I _really_ like you and I want to be with you. . . _Dio,_ I really do, but no matter what, there's always this tiny part of me that thinks I shouldn't and I _hate_ it. I hate it so much."

"Neeks. . ." I could tell by his voice that he was forcing himself to speak, "Do you still think that we're. . . _wrong?"_ The word rolled off his lips like something bitter and it stabbed and dug its way into my flesh.

For some reason, the way he said "we're" and not "it's" made the question sting so much more. "It's" made it seem more distant, less personal, criticizing an exterior force. "We're" confronted the problem head-on, the fact that _we_ were the problem, the fact that what I was feeling, what I was doing, what Will was doing. . . what _we_ were doing. . . I wasn't supposed to agree with it. My breath shuddered against his shirt, "I don't want it to be. You make me _so_ happy. . . I just worry too much. I worry that I'm not making the right choice, that I'm being selfish. And you don't deserve me, you deserve someone who doesn't shake whenever you kiss them, you deserve someone who can give you everything you want."

"No," he whispered, "no, no, no. Nico, you don't understand. You _are_ what I want. You're everything I want."

I laughed breathily against his chest, "Everything?"

His breath was warm over my hair, "Yeah, Neeks."

"I'm holding you to that, no more water for you."

I knew he was rolling his eyes at me, "Shut up, di Angelo."

I grinned wickedly, _"Make me."_

Will tipped forward so that I landed with a surprised huff with him on top of me, my legs still wrapped around his waist. My head had flopped back against the bed and now I was staring right at him, a smile pulling at my mouth as I took in his enormous grin.

"What are you smiling about?" I whispered, looping my arms around his neck.

"You."

"Me?"

He touched his nose to mine, "Who else?"

I cracked a smile at him, twisting a piece of his hair around my finger, "Your family?"

Will laughed. He laughed and it moved through his chest like an earthquake, sending a shock wave through mine. His eyes sparkled like the ocean at midday when sunlight hit and glinted off of it the most potently.

He was beautiful and I couldn't stop looking at him. Before, I could hardly bring myself to look at all. Now, all I wanted to do was look. I wanted to look and look and look until the world faded itself into black and I couldn't look anymore.

He ducked his head to kiss the space between my neck and my shoulder softly, "I can't believe you're finally mine." The last word sounded like an experiment, as if he was testing how it tasted rolling off of his lips.

 _His,_ I thought. My face broke into a grin. "Yours," I whispered. "How could this possibly be wrong, Will?"

He just shook his head, stretching out over me as I let my legs fall away from his waist. Every inch of him was pressed against me and my thighs were hugging his hips tightly.

"You tell me."

I laughed at him, "You're heavy."

He snorted into the fabric covering my shoulder, "Too bad, you're comfortable."

My lips pulled themselves into a pout, "Meanie."

"You love it."

"Maybe." I combed my fingers through his hair, humming to myself quietly.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he whispered, shifting and pulling himself up so that his face hovered above mine.

I smiled softly at him and traced the line of his jaw, _Sap._ "How long is forever, Will?" I guess I was a pretty big sap too.

He laughed and I felt it more than I heard it. I didn't think I could ever tire of that. "However long you want it to be." It sounded like a promise.

I pulled him down to fit his lips against mine. It was as easy as thinking, I pressed my fingers into his cheeks so they wouldn't tremble. His lips were chapped and warm, comforting in the same way that his hands were.

I thought, _This is what_ _I've_ _been_ _missing_ _for so long._

I thought, _I was missing something_ _I'd_ _never known._

I whispered, "I think that someday I won't be afraid anymore, Will."

He whispered back, "I think so, too."

**-**

This was probably a new low for me, sitting on top of the tank of a toilet with my feet resting hesitantly on the seat because I was just _done_ with dealing with them. Even hiding in a bathroom for two hours just to make sure they were gone seemed better than going home with a split lip and having to pass it off with some _hilarious_ fabricated story.

I rolled my eyes, the only problem was that I'd only been sitting in here for about thirty minutes and I was certain that Percy and all of the adherents of Percy were methodically searching the entire building for me, so I couldn't leave even though sitting here was practically driving me insane.

I let my head fall back and rest against the cool, but probably filthy, tile of the bathroom wall, suppressing a groan solely because I couldn't risk anyone hearing me.

Leo was out there somewhere, apparently keeping watch for when the coast was clear, but for all I knew, he was using this time to write obscene things over the white board in Mrs. Hait's room. I rolled my eyes again, hands tugging on my hair nervously. Then I almost laughed because the gesture was so _Will_ and I'd definitely been spending too much time around him. Or maybe not enough. My mouth twitched into a smile.

Shaking my head, telling myself to stay focused. I couldn't let myself get distracted. _He_ was out there somewhere. _Percy_ _Jackson._ One more thing on the mile-long list of things I would probably never understand.

I didn't understand why he dedicated his life to making mine absolutely miserable. It seemed like doing that sort of thing would just make a person even _more_ miserable, but what did I know? I wasn't some screwed up teenager who probably had daddy issues.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't entirely true. I rolled my eyes yet again. Part of me wanted to punch a wall and the other part of me was listing every single reason why that was the dumbest idea I'd ever had. To be fair, it was a pretty short list, but a good one, mainly consisting of the fact that punching a wall would get me exactly what I was trying to avoid: bruises.

Today, Percy had been different. Normally, he was only snarky and cruel when it came to me, but today he had stormed through the halls in a dark, brooding cloud. Even Jason had looked nervous around him and I was positive that he would be beyond pissed if he missed his opportunity to unleash all of his anger on me. I was also positive that the kind of beating I'd receive if he found me would be worse than any other.

I tapped my fingers against my knee restlessly, trying to distract myself from the fact that if they really were searching the school (which they most likely were), they were bound to come in here at some point. If they didn't, I had to live with the possibility that Percy would be even more angry that I'd avoided him.

That point came thirty minutes later in the form of softly tapping footsteps and a tune being hummed casually like whoever it was was just on a stroll through the park. I barely dared to breathe, tensing all of my muscles, gaze riveted on the space between the stall door and the floor. His sneakers passed by, _Percy's sneakers,_ a pair of beat up white Adidas that he was constantly doodling on with dry-erase markers.

My stomach was twisting and folding in on itself and my tiny breaths seemed to echo around the entire room. I let out a barely audible, shuddering sigh of relief as the footsteps tapped back across the length of the bathroom and disappeared out the door.

Disbelief was rushing through me in torrents, it couldn't have been that easy. I sat, frozen, for another ten minutes. I probably would have stayed there for another hour if Leo hadn't come in and assured me that they'd left.

"It's fine, they're gone." He'd gone to my locker and picked up my stuff for me. Now I took it from him with shaky hands and a nod that couldn't really portray how thankful I was.

Leo just nodded back, shouldered his bag, and led the way out of the school. We didn't talk on the way home for once. I think we were both lost in our own thoughts. The conversations we have with ourselves are sometimes louder than anything else.

He said goodbye at his street, brow furrowed in concern, and then hesitantly left me to walk the rest of the way alone. Now I worried that they were waiting behind every corner, I worried that they were following behind me, I even worried, standing on Will's porch and clutching the straps of my backpack too tightly, that he wouldn't welcome me like he usually did.

When he opened the door, he was everything I needed. He was bright smiles and messy hair and a stupid smear of _something_ across his cheek and I found myself laughing and crumpling into him, burying my face in his chest.

His arms held me against him and pulled me into the house, face buried in my hair, using one hand to push the door closed. "Hey."

I grinned, "Hi."

"You're in a good mood." He said it happily, kissing my head.

I tugged myself far enough away so that I could look into in face. My chest hurt and my hands were pushing too hard into his back, they slipped momentarily when he bent and pressed a kiss to my lips. "What's wrong, Nico?"

"Nothing." I meant it, too, pulling closer to him again, leaning my head against his chest and pushing away thoughts of Percy and the other three. Will helped make everything right again. I was marveling at the way I nearly trembled with excitement every time he grinned at me and I was wondering at how he could kiss me and make the world disappear and I was _happy_ and I couldn't believe that someone like _Will Solace_ liked _me._

He pulled away suddenly and I let out a startled noise that made Will laugh. He was reaching out to push hair behind my ears, "I want to take you on a date."

My eyes widened and my face scrunched up into something between being skeptical and confused, "A date?"

"Mm-hm." The look on his face could only be described as _adoring_ and it made my cheeks tinge pink, "I want to do this right, Neeks. You deserve it."

I just wanted to kiss him, kiss him and forget. "You're already doing it right."

"I don't feel like it. Let me take you somewhere. Dinner? A movie? Maybe bowling? Nothing fancy." The way his thumb was tracing circles over the space below my ear was distracting.

"Mmm. . . I hate bowling." My eyelids were drifting closed. Will took this as a sign that he should pepper my face with kisses, which made me laugh and shove him away playfully. It was strange how _normal_ this was now, but at the same time, it wasn't, because both of us had wanted it for so long that it just felt natural for things to shift so much in such a short period of time. Except it wasn't that different, was it? Looking at Will, at the joking glint in his eye, he was still my best friend, still the same Will.

I found myself wondering if I was still the same Nico.

I was too aware of the doubt clawing at my gut.

Will was grinning at me. "So, how about that date?"

I gulped, imagining all of my doubts dissipating into nothing, replaced by a teasing smile. I looped my arms around his neck, standing on my tip-toes. "I think it can wait for a bit."

He laughed against my lips and kissed me back, but reached out behind me and pulled the door open. Cold air swept in and swirled around us and I made a faint protesting noise. Will just fumbled around for a bit until he found his jacket on the coat hanger and then he pushed me gently out the door, one arm circled around my waist, steadying me when I tripped slightly, and the other reaching backward for the doorknob. He was grinning as he broke away from the kiss and so I smiled back.

"Come on, we can borrow my mom's car." He stepped back and took my hand, tugging me toward the black Prius on the driveway.

I allowed myself to be pulled down his front steps, "She's okay with that?"

Apparently, he'd grabbed the keys from their perch on the shelf that made up the coat hanger and now he jangled them for emphasis, "She will be when I tell her it's for you."

I hopped down the last step and then took a few quicker steps to walk next to him, shifting the placement of our hands to accommodate. "She knows we're. . . together?" _Is_ _that what we are?_

He looked down at me and laughed, "Nico, she's known that I think you're cute since the first time you showed up on our doorstep."

I made a face at him that was tinged pink and released his hand to walk around to the passenger side. "So?"

Will waited until we were both in the car to answer, _"So,_ nothing gets past that woman."

I let out a short laugh. "Like you being gay? How long has she known?" I felt stupid as soon as I said it, but I _was_ curious and now that it was out in the open, there was no point in trying to take it back.

The question seemed to amuse Will, who was smirking as he checked the review mirror and started backing up, "The better question is when _didn't_ she know."

I gave him a confused look and so he elaborated, "When I was six my mom got an angry phone call from my friend's mom. Apparently, I'd told Maxwell that he was cute and then Maxwell opened his big mouth to his mother, who was immediately afraid that I would 'turn him gay.' My mom promptly thanked her for the compliment as, and I quote, 'If you think my son can turn a boy gay, which is impossible, then you obviously think that he's very handsome.' Then she hung up the phone."

I let out a very undignified snorting noise, immediately covering my mouth with my hand and cursing the blush spreading over my nose. Will's eyes widened and he glanced over at me with a huge grin on his face, "Oh my _gosh,_ did you just snort?"

"No," I said, and Will laughed and laughed.

"You _did."_

I glared at him, "Just drive, Solace."

So we did.

We ended up driving for a long time, agreeing to go somewhere no one would know us. Will's solution for this was to drive and drive until the first restaurant that looked mildly interesting. We ended up in a little Chinese joint mainly because it was called _Nice Food_ and this made Will laugh so hard that he had to pull the car over and then he insisted that we go in and find out of the food was actually nice.

In truth, it was a bit early for dinner, but only by about an hour since we'd been driving for so long, and it didn't really matter anyway. We were here and Will was smiling, so it was perfect.

"You're an idiot," I told him, fighting the smile on my face as he raised a forkful of noodles at one of the employees and said solemnly, "Nice food."

He grinned at me before pulling the bite off the fork with his teeth. "It is pretty nice food."

"If you don't stop saying 'nice food' I'm going to leave."

"And walk all the way home? Yeah, right."

I put a scandalized hand to my chest, "You doubt my abilities?"

He huffed out a laugh, "I do when it involves you walking thirty miles by yourself in the middle of winter."

I lifted an eyebrow at him, "Technically, it's only the beginning of winter."

 _"Technically,_ that's not the point." He looked a bit annoyed, but in the way that I could tell we were both still joking.

 _"Technically,_ I don't care."

He reached out and stabbed a piece of my chicken with his fork, laughing when I glared and swatted at his hand. He didn't protest when I stole a piece of his to get even.

After we'd finished, I slipped my hand into his on the way out the door.

"Where to now?" Will smiled down at me softly, there was a definite bounce in his step and a giddy tilt to his mouth.

"Let's just walk," I said, and so we did. Will swung our hands between us and we pulled each other into shops at random for who-knows-how-long, messing around and talking. It was just like before, only better because neither of us felt like we had to hold anything back. It was much more natural than before, so much more seamless.

I didn't have to refrain from squeezing his hand or pressing into him briefly and I loved it. I loved it and I still felt guilty for it. I felt guilty for it, but I would never want to go back to what we were before.

**-**

Do you ever write a word over and over again and think that it is beautiful?

The word _sometimes_ sounds beautiful to me.

It is a possibility that is not always there.

It is my fingers reaching for sunlight and finding only air.

I take a breath in and force it back out.

_Sometimes._

_Sometimes._

_Sometimes._

It is beautiful because sometimes I am okay and sometimes I am not.

I am amazed by how easy it is to walk. I am amazed because it wasn't always this easy, was it?

Even if I do not remember it, there was a time when the process of putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward was so complicated that it caused me to stumble. Maybe it was just that my muscles weren't developed. How frustrating, to know how to do something but to be held back because of the fragility of your own self.

That was how it felt to be with Will. Kissing him was simple, so simple, except I was so fragile that simplicity crumbled into panic when I thought too much.

It was like breathing, in this way. Breathing is so natural. It's so easy until you start thinking about it. The moment you consider, _I do this all the time without thinking of it?_ it becomes strange, because now you're trying to force air in and push it back out just to understand your own lungs and now you can't find the same steady rhythm that usually so flawlessly keeps your heart pumping.

Things like these make me realize that life is not simple, not in the slightest.

And love is not a feeling, not an emotion, only. Maybe, at first, it is because you can't really control who you love, but ultimately, it is a choice to _keep_ loving a person.

Reaching out and tangling my fingers with his was so easy. Feeling the press of his wrist against mine was not.

Wrists are fragile and smiles are temporary, so holding his hand reminded me that I, myself, am mortal. Therefore, I am fragile and temporary.

Will's fingers were calloused and strong. The sensation of them dragging over my skin was breath-taking. I think that things worn into ruggedness are more beautiful than things that have never truly seen hardship. Will's hands were beautiful. I kissed his palms and his knuckles and the tips of his fingers. And his wrists. Will was fragile and temporary as well.

His smiles made me forget that, though. They made him seem endless.

I carded my fingers through his hair and his eyes closed. He had lips like ripe fruit and a jaw like a knife, so I couldn't decide whether his features were sharp or soft. He opened his eyes and I decided that they were smooth like a lake on a windless day, strong like the lowest branches of an old tree.

"What are you thinking about?" Will was in one of his moods, where everything about him was breathy and slow and lazy in a beautiful way.

I touched his cheek. _Smooth._ I kissed his collarbone. _Strong._ I rested my head against his shoulder. _Both._ I said, "You."

He smiled. Breathy, lazy, slow. _Beautiful._ "Me?"

I smiled too, "Who else?"

Will laughed and so did I.

I was lost in sensation. Lips against my skin, slow and deliberate like they had the rest of all eternity to press marks onto me. Hands underneath my shirt, sliding against my shoulder blades softly. Sighs breathed right next to my ear so that they moved right through me and tugged drawn-out breaths from my own mouth.

Everything was sweet and slow. Will was smiling against my forehead and I was reminded once again that love is a choice. (Love, as the act of commitment, but not love, as in the act of falling.) I didn't think I was in love with Will yet. I loved him, yes, but loving someone is so different from choosing them. I was still afraid, the possibility of running from him was still lurking in the back of my mind and so I had not chosen him yet, not completely.

All decisions come with time, though. I just needed time, so I pulled him down to me and kissed him softly. It was enough, for now.

 _I love you._ It was the set of words I pressed into his skin with my lips. I wanted to whisper them to him, except then he would think I meant, _I'm in love with you,_ and I couldn't give him that because I was scared. I was so scared, so I told him that, with my lips slipping over him, _"_ _Will._ Will, I'm so scared."

My hands were shivering at his back now, shaking desperately because I was thinking too much. Will pulled my arms away from him so that he could grip my hands in his, forehead pressed against mine, blue staring against brown. "I know, Nico. I know." He said it brushing a thumb across my knuckles, "It's okay to be afraid. It's okay."

"Is it?" My eyes were closed now and I was glad for it because when Will said his next sentence, and it was much later, he sounded like he was crying and I hated to see him cry.

"Yes. Yes, _Nico,_ it's okay. It's okay because you're not hiding." _Hiding?_ Hiding from what I was afraid of. He was kissing my cheeks now, my eyelids, my scarred temple.

I did not say, _Sometimes_ _I_ _think_ _I_ _should_.

I said, "Will, don't cry."

His breath shuddered in what I think was a laugh dampened with sadness. "I'm not crying."

I didn't open my eyes to see if he was telling the truth.

**-**

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

I just wanted to cry.

_And I didn't have the energy._

My eyes were screwed tightly closed against the harsh chill of the wind and there was a pain deep inside of me. I wasn't sure if it was my soul or the impression that my bruises were sinking farther and farther into my skin until they were wounds beyond repairing.

I just wanted to walk to Will's house and let him kiss away my tears and I wanted to let him hold me so that I could feel safe. Except I couldn't, not yet. I had to go home and make myself look presentable first, meaning I had to somehow cover up all of _this._ And all of _thi_ s was spread over my jaw and pock-marking my ribs.

I bit my lip and choked back a sob. A shuddering breath in, everything felt watery and inconsistent. A shuddering breath out, sitting up and putting my head between my knees like I could be unseeable that way.

My fingers curled in against the fabric of the beanie Will had given me as car rushed past. I wondered what its driver thought, if they even noticed me. I stood up and a bruise on my calf bit and snarled in protest. I ignored it and focused on everything else instead. I focused on my breaths and wiping away my half-frozen tears. I watched the way the wind kicked up swirls of snow as I cast my eyes around in search of my backpack. Once I found it, my life became an endless process of right foot forward, left foot forward, breathe, repeat until I finally collapsed onto my bed for barely a minute.

Then, it was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hissing between my teeth as I patted makeup over the ugly, blue-green mark that was beginning to appear. Once the job was done, I let my shoulders slump and my head drop, trying to relax and stop pitying myself. I wanted to punch the mirror and watch the glass crack and shatter my reflection, I wanted to feel cuts spreading over my knuckles and finally be able to say something was my fault because I hated blaming other people for my problems.

I braced my hand against the reflective surface for a moment and stared myself in the eyes, I didn't like what I found there.

I texted Will and told him that I had a lot of homework to do. A half-truth, of course. I had homework, but not a lot. I didn't go over because I wouldn't be able to hold myself together for him. I couldn't even hold myself together for my reflection.

I was shaking, remembering the words Octavian had snarled, _Get up, you gross fag._ It hurt because he was right and he didn't even know it.

I was remembering Percy turning and hitting the wall instead of me. I was remembering the strangled sound that had erupted from him. It had sounded so full of pain that I felt bad even pitying myself for a moment. Then Jason had gone over to him and put a hand on his shoulder while I shook on the ground and everything was so _confused._

How could a person be so kind to someone and so cruel to another? Why was Percy the one being comforted when I was broken in the snow?

I was beginning to understand that everyone is a bit broken, or, at least, cracked fractionally, in the process of breaking, at the very beginning of it.

I was living in a world full of masterpieces waiting to be shattered. How tragic is that?

The thought of Kit growing up to be broken or Will being dragged down and smashed, they were images too heart-breaking to consider. Everything beautiful is so _fragile._ I didn't want to think about fragility, it made me feel small and weak, insignificant.

These were the thoughts pressing and pounding against my skull when I was laying in bed trying to forget. They were the ones that pulled me into unconsciousness because I was too exhausted by them to try and fight my heavy eyelids. It was the dull ringing of my phone in my pocket that pulled me back out. When I pressed the receiver to my ear, Will's voice filtered through, "Nico, it's snowing."

It's funny how a couple of hours of nothingness can change your mood, now I was just grumpy and drained like a phone battery hovering at one percent. Before I was myself hovering at the edge of a cliff.

I huffed tiredly, "Did you wake me up just to tell me that the weather is behaving normally?"

"No, I woke you up to tell you that I'm cold. Why are you sleeping anyway?"

"Then put on a jacket, Solace," I grumbled. "I was sleeping because I was _tired."_

I could practically see him pouting, _"Nico."_

I pulled my blanket over my head and burrowed under the covers, _"What?"_

"You're fucking grumpy when you're tired." He sounded amused.

I decided to ignore his statement, "Why did you feel the need to call and tell me that you're cold?"

"Because you're warm."

My lips twitched at that, "You are a _sap."_

"I haven't seen you in three days."

I sighed, "It's not that long."

Will answered by mumbling something that was mostly unintelligible. I caught the words, "Yeah, but. . . you. . . not. . ." They didn't mean anything, so I didn't say anything, and so, after a couple of seconds, Will sighed. "Are you avoiding me?"

My eyes widened considerably at this and I pushed myself into a sitting position, _"No,_ Will, I was just busy and. . ." I gestured helplessly, knowing that Will couldn't see it.

"And?"

"I was. . . a lot of things, but I wouldn't avoid you. Why would I avoid you?" I worried away at my blanket with my pointer finger and thumb.

There was a brief silence, "I just. . . I know you're scared, Nico, and I thought that maybe. . ."

I shook my head, "No, it's not like that. I'm sorry for making you worry."

Will laughed softly, "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just used to seeing you every day. . . which is dumb, I know. Three days isn't that long."

I was smiling now, he always made me smile. "Come over here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I want to see you." I was looking at my ceiling now. A blank canvas that knew all of my secrets and spat them out over my walls.

"I want to see you, too." He hung up the phone and I rolled my eyes, "I have a stupid _s_ _ap_ for a boyfriend."

The stupid sap poked his head into my room three minutes later. "Hi, Neeks."

He looked nervous and so I got out of my bed and stomped over to him, making sure he knew how absolutely _pissed_ I was, and then I kissed him and he laughed just like I knew he would, his shoulders relaxed just like I had expected them to, and his nose touched my cheek lightly afterward, just like it always did.

"I wasn't avoiding you."

Will grunted, "You'd better not have been."

I told him to shut up and went to sit on my bed, Will following after me. We both sat cross-legged, a two-inch span between our knees and Will leaned forward to touch my cheek sadly like there was something hidden in my skin that I couldn't see. "You seem distant, Neeks."

We seemed to shift suddenly from emotion to emotion without any warning. I think we were the only two people who could make that work.

I wrapped my fingers around his just because it seemed like something I should do. We were both studying our hands now instead of looking at each other. His skin was still golden from the memories of summer and made mine look bleached of color.

"I feel distant." The description seemed to fit. Distant. Far away, untouchable, everything seemed unclear. It didn't feel like I was the distant one, but it felt like everything else was out of reach and that made me seem distant to everything else.

Will's fingers gave mine a soft squeeze and I thought for a second, _Maybe I'm not distant._

"I'm not forcing you to do this, right? If being with me makes you uncomfortable at all, I don't want you to think you have to do this for me."

I met his gaze and saw the concern there, so I reached out to touch his cheek experimentally, replicating his gesture from a few moments ago. "Will, you have to stop worrying so much. I hate seeing you worry. I _want_ to be with you, okay?" _But should I?_ I had to swallow in order to force the thought back down.

He nodded and bit his lip. "What _is_ bothering you then?"

My brow furrowed, "Who said anything was bothering me?"

"Something is off, Neeks. You just seem. . I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

Something in my gut was twisting uncomfortably and I ended up blurting something toxic. "There's always things I don't tell people."

"What kind of things?" His fingers were fiddling with mine and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"The kinds of things I think are better off inside my head."

A muscle in Will's jaw twitched and his fingers tightened on mine, a split second signal that he was rushing into something he thought was dangerous, "If you're depressed, Nico, I--"

I cut him off quickly because he was right, it was dangerous and I was afraid of dangerous things, "One more depressed kid in this world doesn't make that much of a difference, Will." My eyes fell closed because I didn't believe it.

"Are you depressed, Nico?"

"No, Will, I just think too much and talk too little."

"Maybe you should talk more."

"I don't know how."

I felt him move closer, felt his breath fan across my face, he kissed the corner of my mouth and I smiled because I could feel him smiling, "I want you to think of something you haven't told anyone."

_I know exactly who gave me the scar on my face, Will._

"Okay." I replied, my eyes still closed softly.

He pushed me backward gently and crawled on top of me, kissing my forehead. This was another strange shift in emotion that somehow worked when it shouldn't have. "It's right here, right?"

I nodded, biting my lip to keep from laughing and opened my eyes to look up at him. "Yeah."

He kissed my temple, right where the offending scar was, and then the corner of my eye. "I want you to imagine it's here now, right outside of your line of sight."

I nodded, brushing my fingers over his face, "You're in my direct line of sight and. . . It's somewhere over there. . ." I nodded my head to the left, "But it doesn't matter that much."

Will smiled at me, I could tell he was enjoying this little game that we were playing, his eyes were laughing. "Now close your eyes."

I did as he said, and felt lips dance over my eyelids. I laughed and pressed my hands against his chest lightly, "I can see it now."

Will laughed too, his nose brushing against mine. "Oh, good. I was afraid that wouldn't work."

I opened my eyes, his were two inches away. "Okay, now what?"

Will pressed his lips to the skin underneath my eye and across my cheek. Almost like an afterthought, something he hadn't realized he was going to do until it was happening, he grazed his mouth across my jawline and down my neck, pulling my shirt aside to kiss my shoulder. 

"I think this is an unnecessary detour." My fingers curling into his hair, breath shuddering.

"Sorry," he replied, not sounding sorry at all and nuzzling my neck. "That's just how it works, words can't go straight from here--" He pulled back to place a finger on my temple, "--to here--" He traced a line down my face and brushed his thumb over my lips, "They have to sit and work themselves out for awhile."

"That makes sense." I stroked his jaw with my thumb, "So, after they sit for a while. . ."

He kissed my chin, the corner of my lips, my nose, basically anywhere but actually on my lips. "It's kind of itching to get out now, right?"

"Yeah. It's really _del cazzo_ annoying, too."

"Thoughts are like that," Will's smile was amused in the moment before he kissed me softly, pulling away just as I started to kiss back. "Now they're there. Only one step left."

I watched him for a second, searching his eyes.

"You're the only one who can actually get your thoughts out into the world, Nico. They won't express themselves."

"I. . ." I started, and then I gulped. There was no way I could tell Will what was actually on my mind. "I think your collarbones are really sexy."

Will laughed, an abrupt, surprised sound that made his back jerk upward. "Well, that's definitely not what I was expecting. . ." He tilted his head to the side and tucked hair behind my ear, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

I nodded, "I know I can. . . I'm just not sure if I can trust myself to."

He looked confused, but sighed. "Okay, Nico."

"I do think your collarbones are sexy, though," I told him, grinning, not wanting to dwell on the things lurking in the back of my skull.

He raised his eyebrows, "My collarbones, eh?" He was willing to let it slide for now.

I shrugged, "I have a thing for collarbones."

 _"Ooooh,_ a dirty collarbone fetish, hm?" He wiggled his eyebrows as he said it, smirking.

I laughed, "Well, when you say it like that. . ."

"How would you say it, then, _Nico di Angelo?"_

"I. . . er. . . Just think that humans with prominent collarbones are a blessing from on high. . .?"

He snorted, "Yeah, okay."

I ran my fingers along his collarbones, smiling softly, "I don't even know why, actually."

"Well, I, personally, can't get enough of your accent." I wrinkled my nose at him, and he looked confused, "What? You can have a weird thing for collarbones, but I can't have a thing for your voice?"

I shook my head, "It's just that my dad has an Italian accent too."

Will busted out laughing, "Nico, I promise I don't find your dad attractive in any way."

"That's just cruel, Will."

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"I know." I pushed myself up on my elbows to kiss him, laughing against his lips when wrapped his arms around my waist and rolled us both so that he was beneath me.

"If my mother came in right now I would have no good explanation." It seemed funny until I said it out loud, so then I said, _"Cazzo,"_ rather forcefully and kissed Will again.

"You have to promise not to ever let three days go by without coming to see me. It doesn't even have to be an extended visit, just a brief hello, you know? Just so I don't get too lonely."

I said, "You are _absolutely_ hopeless, Will Solace," but the thing was, I was even more hopeless, so I made the promise and then I kissed him senseless and got lost. ****


	13. Recondite

I had an odd habit of staring at things--plants, animals, people, rocks, it didn't really matter, as long as it had an interesting shape, an unfamiliar texture, a breath-taking play of light and shadow--and imagining how I'd draw them or what words I would use to describe their beauty. Sometimes even boring things caught my eye. I frequently got strange looks if I was caught studying a person's face or their hands.

Often times, I studied Will this way. I watched how he tipped his head back when he laughed and how his Adam's apple moved when he swallowed. His fingers twitched when he was deep in thought. His eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks. The palms of his hands were smooth while his fingertips were rough from years of guitar strings making them blister and bleed. Still, he played his instrument with love.

There were so many tiny little things that made Will beautiful, and somewhere deep inside of myself, I was afraid that I would lose them or simply forget. The only way to hold onto it all for sure was to draw every single one of them, scrawl sentences in between. My sketchbooks were quickly being taken over by lopsided smiles and shoulders dusted with freckles; sand on the beach. (Waves in his eyes.)

The only problem was that my work never _really_ captured the taking grace that Will Solace was built from and I only realized it when he finally showed me the only part of himself that he'd been keeping hidden.

His photography showed things exactly how they were without artistic adjustments or small inexactitudes. They didn't miss details the way ordinary eyes sometimes did. Will's work wasn't the kind of thing usually seen in pretty photo galleries and calendars. People tend to only take pictures of moments in time that make everything seem surreal, without fault. Will, on the other hand, did just the opposite.

He took pictures centered on dead a group of wilting flowers that featured pristine, flourishing ones blurrily in the background. He captured moments that reminded of the ugliness buried in winter; snapshots of leftover birds huddled on the bare branch of a tree, a flower that had pushed its way stubbornly out of the ground too early and was now regretting it, hanging its head and shedding its petals. Every single one told me that there was always despondency in appeal and appeal in despondency.

Flipping through them, I became more and more engrossed by the second.

A side-view of a boy's face, his brown hair hanging over his forehead limply, curling at the ends and just brushing his eyebrows. He was smiling, but it looked a bit broken, just barely being held there by a few pins and needles. His lashes were soaked and a single tear was cutting across his freckled cheek, making a run for the sharp edge of his jaw; a suicide mission.

Will's hands, bloody fingers plucking at the strings of his guitar, smearing them with crimson. A few of them had snapped and were hanging in hopeless curls. It was a heart-breaking shot that spoke of frustration and sadness beyond words. It made me feel like there was a story I was missing, made me want to reach out through time and space until I was in that moment just so I could still his hands and pull the instrument from them, take care of him.

A butterfly settled on a flowering vine that was climbing and twisting its way up a brick wall that framed a shattered window, shards of glass stuck haphazardly from its edges and the interior of the place was dusty and sad; abandoned. The shot was something like hope fighting to overcome something terrible.

A tiny sapling growing in a charred forest.

A stray cat hiding from the rain with fear in its eyes and dirt smeared across its cheek.

A photograph burning. All that was left were two pairs of lips, one smiling underneath the other. I'd drawn those lips over and over and over again. The other pair was a mystery.

I froze at the next picture because it was of me. I was sitting at the lake, head tipped back and sunlight spilling across my features and sparkling in my hair. I was smiling blissfully and my eyes were closed. This was the type of thing that blocked out all of the bad and focused in on only the good. It fit, though, because I remembered that day and it was all laughter and Will snapping pictures and something building, building.

Will reached over and pulled the photos from my hands and when I looked up at him, his sun-bronzed face was tinted pink. He flipped back through them, telling me the story behind each. Where he'd been, why he'd been there, what had caught his eye, how'd he'd gotten the shot, what it meant to him.

The picture of the brown-haired boy stuck with me the most.

Will hesitated on it, tapped his finger against it with an almost-smile, "His name was Xander."

I just sat quietly, afraid that anything I might do would shatter the moment, startle him away from sharing this.

"He was. . . my boyfriend. Before you. Before. . ." One hand fluttered upward, caught at the air where the string of his hoodie would usually be hanging, and then snagged on the collar of his shirt instead, tugging and wearing away at it. He gulped, looking a bit unstable, "This was. . . We were sitting on my bed. . ." There was a long pause, I think both of us heard the unsaid words in the air, _This same bed._ "We were sitting on my bed and he just started crying, told me that he didn't know. . . didn't see the point. Didn't even get what I saw in him. So I took this. . . took it to show him. Two months later he. . . just. . ."

"Oh. Oh, _Will."_

It was the only the second time I'd seen Will Solace cry. He didn't shake or sob like I did. It was just quiet and hopeless, he didn't even move to wipe the tears away. It made me want to tear the world down.

I moved in front of him, whispered his name. He just looked up from the picture and gave me a soft smile like I was the one who needed consoling. It wasn't hard to guess that Xander had been so much better than me, I wasn't hard to beat.

Will closed his eyes as I dusted my fingers over his cheeks, wiped away his tears. "I'm so, so sorry, Will." The words felt pathetic, felt completely useless. I couldn't even think of anything better to say. How are you supposed to make something like _that_ okay again? You can't. You _can't._

"Come here." I pulled him down onto the bed with me tucked my chin on top of his head, wrapping my arms around him protectively, "I know how hard it is to lose someone you love, I _know._ I'm so sorry."

He just nodded and pressed closer, "I know. It's okay. I'm okay."

"Shh," I whispered, and traced my fingers up and down his spine. "You don't always have to be strong, Solace. Just let me take care of you."

We were like that for a long while until Will shifted back, exhaling shakily. "I just want to take my mind off of it."

I searched his eyes for a second and then nodded and turned hesitantly onto my back, knowing from the look in his eyes that it would help, would make him feel more at ease if I just acted like I normally would. It didn't make me feel any more at ease, though. I wanted to hold him like he always held me; I wanted to make him feel safe and this wasn't the way I knew.

I felt him shift next to me, turning onto his side and curling closer.

"When you take pictures," I whispered, and I could sense the tension leaving his body; I thought that maybe we weren't that different in the fact that we didn't really like talking about our own problems, "what's it like? I mean, because I know how I think when I draw, I know what I'm trying to do and how it feels, but photography is different."

He shifted again, drawing himself up onto his elbow to look down at me. The skin around his eyes was red and strained, the only visible sign that he'd been crying. "It's kind of like this. . ."

I sighed softly, eyes closed, feeling Will's fingers trace from my wrist to my elbow and back again. "Kind of like us?"

He laughed quietly, dropping his head down so his breath warmed the fabric of my t-shirt where it stretched over my shoulder, "Kind of."

"Okay." And he buried his fingers his fingers in my hair, "But how?"

"Because. . . Well, how do you feel when you draw?" I wanted to turn and curl into his warmth and it took me a second to realize that I was falling back on old habits, holding back.

I hummed softly, shifted, tucked my head against the arm he was using to hold himself up. "Words just describe pictures, don't they? And pictures describe words. So I think. . . When I draw, I'm trying to describe a set of words and when I write--"

"You write?" He sounded surprised, and then, based on the shift in his tone of voice, I thought he smiled, "Of course you write."

I nodded and my lips brushed against the soft skin of his inner forearm. "Mostly on my walls. But. . . When I write, I'm trying to describe a set of pictures."

"Makes sense." He was quiet, thinking, and I didn't have anything to say, so I was quiet too. Until Will leaned down, nuzzling against my neck, making me laugh. "It's like. . . When I'm taking pictures it's not just about finding the perfect lighting or the very best angle. I mean, that's a lot of it, yeah, but for me, it's mainly about trying to convey some sort of emotion or story using what's already there. It's all about capturing exactly what's going on in my head and sharing it with everyone else."

Pulling back just enough to look at him, I flattened my hand out against his chest, my back pressed into the mattress, my palm pressed into him. His heartbeat was steady and constant, calming. "And that's like us?"

 _Us._ My chest felt strained because my mind was turning old thoughts and beliefs and habits around and around, but my heart was pounding its fists against my ribcage, _'Us' is good and pure and beautiful, Will is the only thing there to make you smile. Hold on. Hold on. Do not let go._

Will smiled, shifted closer. "It's like me. What I try to be, try to give you."

"Everything that's inside your head? How you see it?" I let my hand push upward, ghost over his neck and jaw until I could touch his face. I wanted to ask him if he was really okay, I wanted to focus on him.

His eyes had drifted half-closed, "Yeah. . ."

"Mmmm. . . Then what are you thinking right now?" I pushed hair from his face, smiling as he sighed and reached out to nudge me closer, curl around me almost protectively, just like I had done earlier.

_Tell me what you're really feeling, Solace._

He tilted his head to the side, leaning into where my palm was now resting against his cheek, "Did you have a. . ." His mouth twitched, and I knew from his eyes that it was because he was amused by something, "girlfriend before?"

I felt my own mouth shift into a small smile (a smile laced with too many thoughts) before I shook my head and then my eyebrows pulled together. "I mean, you're my first. . . anything, really." I was silently resigning, accepting that Will would only tell me as much as he wanted and that was okay. (Okay for now.)

His eyebrows darted upward at that, "Anything? What do you mean?"

I felt myself blushing and shifted my gaze past Will's face and to the ceiling, dropped my hand back to my side, trying to will the coloration away. "I've never really even _thought_ about it before. It's like. . . people get crushes all of the time. . . but I never did. Not until you, I guess." That only made me blush harder, "It's not really surprising, though, I never actually tried to get to know people."

"Huh."

I shifted my eyes back to his face, "'Huh,' what?"

Will grinned at me, "Nothing. It's just that I think you might be demiromantic."

"That is not even a _word,_ Solace." That made him laugh, hard. Head thrown up at the ceiling and everything.

He laid down completely again, still chuckling lightly, "It is _too_ a word."

I turned my head to nudge my nose against his playfully. "Oh, yeah? Then what does it mean, wise guy?"

Will poked my side, making me squirm, "Just that you don't feel any romantic attraction until you develop an emotional connection first."

I made a face at him, "So, basically, it means that I'm a normal human being?"

"No," He had to pause and bite his lip to keep from laughing at me again, "I don't mean. . . romantic attraction isn't like _falling in love_ or something. . . I mean, I guess it is. . . kind of? You know, what, Nico? I do not have the patience to explain this to you right now." His voice was laced with mirth.

I snorted, turning onto my side to face him completely, "So what you're saying is that I'm right?"

Will glared playfully and shoved at my chest. _"No._ Okay, let me start over."

We both dissolved into laughter and Will leaned his forehead against mine, draping an arm over my waist. "I'll put it like this instead. People who _aren't_ demiromantic, they usually-- No, that's not right either. Look, when you look at a person, how do you see them?"

"What?"

"Okay, yeah. That was a dumb question. Uhm. . . I'll just go back to what I was saying before. _Usually,_ people who aren't demiromantic look at an attractive person and their outward appearance is enough for them to think, 'Hey, I might actually want to kiss this human on the mouth,'" I raised my eyebrows at that, which he studiously ignored, "but a demiromantic person wouldn't even think about a person like that at all until they _really_ know them and even then, things might just stay completely platonic."

I just looked at him dubiously for several seconds, "So you're telling me that people just walk around wanting to kiss random strangers? Without even knowing them?"

"I wanted to kiss you when we first met." He said it with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

 _"Will!"_ I promptly covered my face with both hands to hide my blush from view.

That earned another bout of laughter from him and then he tugged on my wrists, "Okay, okay. If it makes you feel any better it was a _little_ bit after we met."

I pulled one hand away from my face to swat at him half-heartedly, "That doesn't even make sense. Why in the world would you want to kiss me?"

"Why do you think some people have one-night stands, Neeks?" Still laughing at me.

"I don't-- _I don't know!"_ I sputtered, uncovering my face so that he could experience the full measure of my exasperation.

His expression softened out and he reached out to touch my cheek soothingly. "Alright, alright. Let me ask you this: When you look at a person, do you see them as attractive or unattractive?"

"I don't know. . . yes? It's like. . . looking at vases. I know which ones look nice based on. . ." I made a frustrated hand gesture because I couldn't seem to find the right words, "I don't want to. . . _kiss the vases,_ though."

That made him laugh again, shaking and pressing in closer to me, "I cannot _believe_ that you just compared dating to shopping for _vases."_

"Oh, come on," I said, smirking at him. "People aren't _that_ different from vases."

Will was grinning back at me, "Okay, then name three ways they're even _similar_ ."

"Easy. They're hollow, emotionless, and no good unless you're filling them up."

 _"Nico!"_ Will gasped, completely astonished, but laughing all the same.

I snickered quietly, much too proud of myself, "I've been spending way too much time with Leo."

Will let out a disbelieving huff, "So I can see."

I traced my finger over the soft fabric of his T-shirt, still smiling. Will just laid there--eyes drifting closed, sighing softly--while I drew invisible patterns on his chest and let it all soak in.

_Demiromantic._

_Is that okay?_

_Of course, it's okay._

_Gay. Demiromantic._

_I'm okay. It's not_ wrong.

_I'm just different._

_And it's not like. . . Not like the church has anything against falling in love slower. Because that's kind of what it is, right? Something like that. I'm okay. Even if. . ._ I barely let my mind whisper it, barely let it be an idea at the edge of my subconscious because I was afraid, _the person_ _I'm falling for is a boy._

I splayed my fingers out, pressing my hand more forcefully against him, wanting the strength and clarity, the sureness, of it. "So. . . How is it for you?"

Eyes still closed, pulling me closer still, "What do you mean?" My heart _hurt._

"Well, because, for me. . . I never even thought of you as anything other than my best friend for. . . _m_ _onths,_ even. I mean, I guess, there was kind of _something_ there, but I never really realized it, and that still wasn't until later. . .

"That night at the lake was. . . It was the first time I ever let myself acknowledge it. It wasn't the first time I ever _felt_ it. . . but, I guess, I just don't understand how you can. . . _want. . ."_ The word came out as a question and I wrinkled my nose at the sound of it, "a person like _that_ without knowing them. It makes me feel weird just thinking about it. . . and I thought that was how it was for everyone, but that doesn't really make sense now that I think about it. . ." I trailed off, blushing and curling my toes, wanting to hide my face in Will's chest, but holding back because his eyes were opening and catching mine gently in their grip.

Will brushed his fingers across mine where they were still spread across his shirt, "That's completely normal," he whispered softly, and waited for me to nod before he continued. "For me, I was attracted to you from the moment I saw you and that's how it is for anyone I think is cute, but. . . I still have to get to know a person before I decide of I _really_ like them, personality-wise. . . if that makes sense?" I nodded again, slower this time, and he cracked a little smile at me, "Like, when you showed up on my door-step. . . and even. . ." He bit his lip, blushing a bit, which made me grin, "I thought you were. . . You have nice eyes, Neeks. And pretty hair. And a cute nose."

I laughed, "You _are_ a sap."

He just grinned at me, "But I think. . ." Will blew out a breath and smiled, running a thumb across my bottom lip, "I've had a crush on you for the longest time, di Angelo."

"Present tense?" I asked, lips twitching in amusement under Will's thumb.

He smiled shyly, "Well. . . yeah. You still seem like something that I can't have. Too good to be true. And I don't know what else to call that."

 _"Solace,_ I'm your _boyfriend,_ I'm _yours."_

"Completely?" His voice was soft, hesitant, maybe even a little bit scared.

I reached up and tugged his hand away from my face so that I could curl his fingers into a loose fist and kiss his knuckles, holding his gaze steadily. "Always." _Even if it scares me. And it does. Still. So much._

Will's eyes fluttered shut, his expression so full of relief and wonder and that it almost looked pained. "Okay. Alright."

"Will," I muttered--just for the sake of saying it, just to fill his name with every confused, intense emotion swirling in the pit of my stomach--and ran my thumb over the back of his hand, "Will Solace."

His breathing hitched, just slightly, and he muttered, "Neeks," so quietly that it was barely more than a breath.

I had the sudden, intense desire to press close to him, so close that there would be nothing else but the two of us and our breaths, his warmth spilling off of his skin and into mine. My hand curled up in his shirt, crumpled it, and his eyelids flew open wide to reveal the skies behind them, his hand tightened around mine, lips parted in shock at the intensity of my expression.

I huddled into him, our foreheads together, hands knotted between our chests, my legs tangling themselves with his desperately, wanting to tie myself to him, wanting him to _know,_ know me and what I thought of him, wanted him to understand all of the dark parts of myself that rested beneath my skin, in my bones.

"Remember, Will?" I whispered, and his hand, the one that had been resting over mine against his chest, caught at the back of my neck, cupped it, held me there with him. "Remember when we first met? Remember the first time I kissed you? Do you remember?"

He nodded, a crease between his brows, his thumb tracing a path underneath the downy hair at the base of my scalp. "Of course. Like it was yesterday."

I wanted to look him in the eye and whisper, _I know you think you remember, but you don't remember the way I do. I remember thinking for the very first time that you're beautiful. I remember noticing a thousand tiny things about you all at once and being absolutely overwhelmed with it. I remember so much starlight in my chest that I was sure I was about to collapse, explode, become a black hole._

I let out a breath, it almost sounded startled. "You asked me what my favorite color is."

He was smiling again, pushing his fingers upward, through my hair. "You said black."

"It wasn't true."

"What is it, then?"

I wanted so, so much right then. Wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him, wanted him and nothing else, wanted him to be all that there was so it wasn't possible to think of anything else, "I draw you all of the time."

"Yeah?" I could see it in his eyes, could hear it in his voice, how it was too much breath and not enough sound, could feel it in the way his fingers were trembling, tumbling, collapsing down my spine, that he felt it too.

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me first, so I could feel the frenzy of his thoughts through his lips. "I can never get your eyes right."

His laugh was shaky, barely there at all, "And you call me a sap."

_They're not just blue, Solace, they're like light on water. Like spring fading into summer, like warmth. You remind me of laughter. You make me feel safe. I look into your eyes and I think that I will never be hurt again and I just want to capture that, want to put it on paper so that the world can see it too._

_"Just. . ."_ The word was something else, something like a plea or a confession, and Will was already leaning in, something so unguarded and gone behind features that it made me gasp.

And then we were kissing, untangling our hands to pull and clutch and _feel,_ and he was all there was, all that mattered.

I was tightening my hold on him, one hand driven into the small of his back, the other slipping up his neck to cup his jaw, when a sharp noise sounded at the back of my skull, outside of everything else, and Will jerked backward, chest heaving, still pressed against me and holding, grasping. Not enough.

"Bear?"

Will's breathing shuddering, pushing his forehead against mine once more, nudging my nose with his. "Kit?" His voice was pulled taught, strained, trying to come across normal.

There was a slight creak of hinges protesting, and Will flinched, hands jerking away from me, the first step in his escape, but not fast enough.

"Are you two being gross again?"

Will's jaw tightened, eyes fastened onto mine, crimson dusting his cheeks. "No," he said roughly, and pulled himself back, turned away from me to face his sister.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the color in my cheeks rushing to match his: flushed only partially from embarrassment, and then I rolled over onto my back to stare pointedly at the ceiling, trying to even out my breathing.

"Yes, you _were!"_ I could tell from her voice that she had that expression of hers on, all suspiciousness and exasperation. "You're always being gross."

"Kissing isn't _that_ gross, Katherine." His voice was mostly back to its usual state, lighthearted and laughing.

She huffed, "Is too!"

"Nu uh! Even Nico agrees with me. . ."

-

Some of my favorite moments with Will were the soft, quiet ones. Moments when we just drifted, just flowed. Like a lazy creek's current or a soft wind. It was moments like this, all slow breaths and quiet conversations, that I wanted to stay in forever.

Not that it was really quiet right then, because it was just the opposite of quiet (loud outside conversations ringing through the chilled air, fireworks raining down and lighting up the sky, glasses clinking together, excited shouts) but the moment was quiet, Will's eyes were quiet.

He reached across the short space between our lawn chairs, the explosions above us lighting up his features, making his hair shine, and tangled our fingers together. "It's almost midnight."

I smiled at him, behind us, Apollo was raising his glass in a toast and Will's grandmother was laughing at him. Kit was chasing one of her friends around, a blonde girl who's name I didn't remember. My parents were nowhere to be seen, lost in the crowd somewhere. My heart was thundering in my ribcage at the danger of it.

"Two minutes," I told him, and his fingers tightened around mine.

Will leaned closer, lashes lowered, casting shadows across the freckles sprinkled over his cheeks. "Can't I just kiss you now?"

"You could. . ." I bit my lip in an attempt as restraining my smile, "but that would kind of defeat the purpose."

He sighed and a cloud rose up in front of him, reaching through the air toward me like a wistful thought before it dispersed, "Two minutes is a long time."

"Not really, Solace."

Will huffed disbelievingly, "It is when I'm trying to keep myself from kissing the prettiest boy here."

"Shut up." My cheeks were bright red, only partially from the cold, and I had to look away from him, "It's only a minute now."

He reached up with his free hand to adjust the beanie on my head, which he insisted that I wear at every given opportunity. "Longest minute of my life."

"And we're not even half-way through it," I gave him a sideways smile.

Will pouted, leaning his head on my shoulder in despair, "This is _torture,_ di Angelo."

"I've gotta say. . . I really thought torture would be a lot worse than this." My chest felt too warm, too tight.

Someone was yelling that it was almost time to start the countdown and Will's head jerked upward, his expression hopeful like a little puppy begging for table scraps.

"We've still got thirty more seconds. . ." My voice was just above a whisper, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Will leaned his forehead against mine, "I haven't kissed you all night."

My eyes drifted closed, "We've been dodging around my parents all night."

He jolted backward at that and my eyes fluttered open just enough to see that he was glancing around nervously, and then he melted back into me, relief flooding across his features, "The coast is still clear."

Another smile was pulling at my features, I was always smiling around Will. "Good. I don't want to be dunked in holy water today."

Will snorted, "If you'd be dunked in holy water, I'd be skinned alive."

"Your parents would never allow it." Will was biting his lip and my gaze was floating downward, staying pinned there for too long, taking in how his teeth dug into the soft flesh.

"Ten!" The shout came from somewhere in front of us, and my eyebrow flicked upward.

"Nine!" More people had joined in this time and Will was tracing his thumb across my cheekbone, his grin stretching wide.

I shifted slightly so that I wasn't twisting so much to face him. "Eight!" We both whispered it along with everyone else, eyes twinkling.

"Seven!" Will's lips dusted the tip of my nose and I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Six!" I reached out to press a hand against his chest.

His heart was thundering, thumping against my palm. "Five!"

"Did I tell you that you look great tonight?" His hair was messy and windblown and wild.

"Four!"

I reached out to try and tame it, "Only several dozen times."

"Well--"

"Three!"

"--you do." His voice hitched around the last word.

I leaned forward, touched my chill-bitten nose against his. "You're beautiful. All the time."

"Two!"

"Kiss me."

"Wait one more--"

"One!"

His hands came up to tangle in my hair and he drew me forward. Closer, closer, until he could press his lips against mine. Everyone was shouting, cheering and there were fireworks in my chest, in the air around us.

I drew away just enough to look at him and remember it. _"Buon anno,_ Will."

"Happy New Year." And then he kissed me again, slowly so that I couldn't think of anything else.

-

There were constantly moments in the day (words, phrases, smiles, irony, something I wanted and couldn't have, something tiny and insignificant, meaningless), that put a stab of something like grief through my heart. It always reminded me of terrible things and that made me feel like I should cry, not that I wanted to or had to, but that I _should,_ and that was almost worse, because when has it ever been the right thing to do, for someone to cry? Maybe at a funeral or a parting, a goodbye, but not at the sight of-- something. It always came so abruptly and I was never sure why exactly I was suddenly so sad, especially because it was usually right after I was unbelievably happy. I could never pinpoint it, the reason, I mean. It made it worse because I think that maybe was always sad and those were just moments when I realized it.

Moments like this: there was a drawing on my desk at the end of the day and it was beautiful in the sense that the design was so intricate it was almost chaotic. I found myself staring at it instead of listening to my teacher because art deserves to be appreciated, especially art that is temporary. And I suddenly wanted to pound my fists against the earth and yell and scream and never, ever stop.

So I left that class remembering when Bianca and I used to play hide and seek with the kids in our neighborhood and she would tell me, "Nico, if you can't see them, they probably can't see you," (in Italian, her expression overly serious, voice lilting, hair in braids) and so I stood in the middle of an open field with my eyes screwed tightly shut and was shocked to be the first one discovered. I found myself thinking that it was similar to the reason I walked with my eyes on my shoes; because then maybe I could go unseen. The only problem was that it didn't really work, left me even more exposed than before, so I never saw anyone else until they were already upon me.

It was proved by the sudden biting pain in my back as my feet slipped and fumbled the wall rushed up to meet it, the whites of my eyes, air rushing out of my lungs, and Percy's hands fisted tightly over the words printed on my t-shirt (just _'ssshh'_ in washed-out white over the black), his snarl an inch from my nose because the toes of my sneakers were just barely pressed against the ground.

My hands came up, desperate and unthinking, to push wildly at his chest, "Wait, wait. Percy, just _wait."_

He laughed, an empty sound, "For _what,_ exactly?"

That was a good question, one I didn't have the answer for. There was never preamble to this, no conversation, there wasn't any pressing to get out. But now there was because I'd made it that way, except now I didn't know how to continue.

"I don't know why you do this." They were the first words in my head and so they were the first words past my lips, and therefore the words that made Percy's lips curl into a dangerous smile.

"You don't?" Dripping with sympathy, laced with mockery.

My hands were shaking, I could only think of Will's words all those months ago, _". . . just remember that there is always a reason behind people's actions. If they say there isn't, they're either lying to you or themselves, or they're not looking deep enough."_

"There has to be a reason, I can't just be the easiest target. There has to be a reason why you hate me so much, why you're so angry. I just want--" I choked on my words as he pulled me forward just to slam me back against the wall, just to shock me to the core.

 _"Shut up._ You don't know anything about me." His eyes were erratic, his hands were shaking too, at that point.

I was quiet for several seconds, just breath quaking, just trying to pull myself back together, "No, I don't."

"Then stay out of my business," he growled and took a step back, releasing me roughly so that my heels hit the floor without any warning. I thought that maybe we weren't that different in the fact that we didn't really like talking about our own problems.

He took a step back, jaw clenched, glancing to the side like he was afraid there was someone sneaking up on him. "Stay out."

I had to fight the urge to sink to the ground after he disappeared into the crowd. I had to press my back into the bricks and shut my eyes against everything else. _Just breathe. Just forget. Just move on._ All things easier said than done.

-

Wanting to be hurt?

Feeling like I was better if I was hurt?

Not _really_ wanting to be hurt and still feeling like it was _better_ if I was _hurt._

That's sick. So sick.

Feeling like being happy, whole, undamaged, made me _less,_ made me _less worthy._ Like, if I was hurt then it was okay to be happy for once. Like enduring and being in _pain_ but still pressing on, pushing through it, breaking and tearing my way through the week and going and going until it was the weekend and I could _rest_ and then dreading Monday. Feeling it press closer and closer like a sick weight in my stomach because now I had to do it _all over again._

Time kept moving without me and there was just not enough of it.

It's the worst kind of torture, to have things thriving and twisting in your mind and holding them off until the last second because if you concentrate on them--all of them at once--it will crush you. Having to take things one at a time, as they come, because there's just too much. Too much in the past, eating away and tearing down, too much in the present, hitting and beating, completely relentless, too much in the future, looming and hungry, too much to be _done._ Too much to be expected of. _Too much._

Feeling like _that_ made me stronger and when I wasn't feeling those things I was _weak_ because I was not experiencing pain or heartache or fear. Believing that complacency made me into some sort of small creature that did not have the capacity to deserve.

That was sick.

My thoughts were askew, scattered all over the place like the contents of my backpack.

"It doesn't have to be like this." Snow was melting through my jacket and I was shivering.

They were all looming over me, but I was staring at Percy and he was staring right back, his face twisted into something impenetrable and cruel.

"I know someone close to you got hurt, I know it hurt you too, I _get it."_

His jaw tightened, hands clenching into fists at his sides, Jason was giving him a look lost somewhere between bewilderment and shock. Probably because his expression had slipped for all of a half of a second. (He looked like he was on the verge of shattering.)

Percy kicked snow over my face, Octavian snickered. "You have no idea, runt. You don't know me. _Stop acting like you know me."_

"I'm not _trying_ to!" I gasped and scrambled backward as soon as he started toward me, but my back was met with Frank's beefy legs.

"Sure. And I'm not _trying_ to beat you into next year."

Another laugh from Octavian, a partial smirk from Jason.

I shut my eyes and counted to ten.

I only got to four.

-

Not feeling anything is kind of worse than being sad, though, isn't it? Because at least sadness has a sort of weight to it. At least sadness has a cure, at least sadness can be eased and pushed away.

Nothingness is all-consuming. Nothingness is ever-present and ever-hopeless and never-ending. It makes the world seem like it's ending, makes all good things seem so far away, so untouchable, that you start pushing them away without even really meaning to.

I hadn't seen Will for a week, I hadn't _really_ seen him since New Years. It was always fleeting waves and excuses, too-short conversations over text; a furrow appearing between his eyebrows, the smile slipping from his lips.

Looking at Will made me feel like I should cry. No particular reason at all. For anything.

I just wanted to be alone. Just wanted time to sit still for once. Just wanted the rest of eternity to occupy space and try and figure myself out.

He appeared on my doorstep late at night, hands shoved stubbornly into the pockets of his jacket and I wanted to hit the wall. I wanted to run. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to cry and shake and so I offered him a smile that wasn't all there, gripped the doorframe so tight that my knuckles paled.

Will's lip got caught between his teeth and he just stared at me and chewed at it for too long. "You said you wouldn't let three days go by without coming to see me."

"I know."

He looked away, his expression was pained and sad and too many things that I didn't want to see, so I looked past him at the snowflakes drifting softly to the earth. Snow has the tendency to put the world on mute.

"You've been avoiding me." It wasn't a question. Neither of us was looking at the other.

I dropped my gaze to the floor, "I'm sorry." It was hollow, breakable.

"Nico. . ."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the doorframe, let it take my entire weight because I'd forgotten how he said my name. "I'm sorry."

"I just want to know why, that's all. I just need to know why."

I remembered him underneath the fireworks, looking at me like I was all he wanted in the world. I remembered him counting down the seconds until he could kiss me, telling me that it was the worst kind of torture in the world.

"I don't know." I let out a shaky breath, "I don't know. I'm sorry."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, so I leaned into his weight, felt my heart collapse in on itself. "You make me so happy. And I didn't. . . _feel. . ._ "

_"Ssshh."_

"Stay here. Stay here. Please." I pushed my face into his jacket. It smelled like his cologne, like something that belongs in the woods.

I felt him nodding, his chin moving subtly against the top of my head, "Of course."

I remembered the first time we kissed, Will holding me against his chest while I sobbed and begged him not to let go. I remembered him whispering, _"I never would."_ I remembered staying like that for a long, long while afterward and his fingers in my hair, his lips pressing against my head, something coming loose under my rib cage.

"Is anyone home? Or up?" I shook my head, so he scooped me into his arms and carried me up the stairs.

Will set me carefully down on my bed, sighed and took my face into his hands, just looked.

"I don't know why you stick around." I wanted to kiss him so badly that it hurt, but I was forcing myself not to because I didn't deserve him.

That made his whole face crumble and his fingers push their way through my hair like he had no idea what else to do with himself, "Because. . . you're. . . Nico, I _need_ you."

"Not as much as I need you." I looked into his eyes as I said it, let him know that it wasn't just meant to sound pretty.

He just leaned in and kissed me. It tugged on the most hidden parts of myself, made my throat close up and my fingers dig into his shoulders, made me want to tear my own chest open so I could understand how it all worked.

"If you're staying here. . ." I took a moment to breathe, to steady myself, "You need to change."

He did, and then he crawled into bed and managed to curl himself around me until there wasn't any room for loneliness or grief or all of the black, dark things in the shadows of my head. His arms around my middle made the ache in my chest feel like it was subsiding, being replaced by a different, more pleasant ache.

"Will," A word, a name, whispered into the darkness.

A sigh of sorts, more of a huff, he shifted, pulling me closer to him lazily, "Yeah?"

"How can I be so happy one second, and so sad the next?"

I felt his lips press against my forehead, "Our moods have to shift some time."

"But I don't understand mine."

His fingers touched my face, "I don't think anyone really understands themselves."

It was so dark that opening my eyes didn't make much of a difference. I could just make out the faint shadows of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

"I don't think anyone really knows me."

His eyes fluttered open and then drifted almost closed again before his lips pressed against my neck softly. "Do you want them to?"

"No." It sounded like a terrible confession, like something I should be ashamed of.

He just nodded like I'd said something wise. I think I loved him for it.

"You know me better than anyone else." It seemed important that he should know.

"I think. . ." His voice hitched the way voices do when some part of the brain decides that what they were about to say held too much weight to be something outside of themselves. "I think we should get some sleep.

I carded my fingers through his hair, "Alright."

He drifted off in my arms, his eyelashes fluttering softly with every exhale. My mind wouldn't shut down, though, which was okay because there's something surreal about lying awake and just pondering.

I think that the best part of being up in the middle of the night is that the rest of the world is asleep. There's no distractions, no one to judge, nothing but me and the stars (and that night, Will, inches in front of me, soft and lovely and mine).

I was awake for hours, turning concepts around and around.

I closed my eyes and saw Percy, cruel and broken and rash. I wondered for the millionth time what his big plot twist was, what had shaped him into what he was today. I thought that whatever it was, it had to be something terrible, something so big and devastating that it pushed him to _this._

I opened them and I saw Will, except he was real and soft and gentle. I thought about how his hands felt against my skin, I thought about how his voice was rich and soothing. I remembered how hollow I felt until he came around and looked at me and I realized that I was something worthwhile, that I was not a waste of space, that things could be okay because I could make them that way.

Will was my rock, my safety. He was warm laughter and strong shoulders and a crease between two blonde eyebrows that spoke worlds of concern. He reminded me to stop looking inward, to stop sinking. He didn't pull me back out, I had to do that myself, but he was always the reason.

It hit me, suddenly, that I still hadn't told him how I felt, not really. I felt so ridiculously stupid, because what's the point of being scared of something like that? What's the point of holding back when words like those can only set you free?

Will Solace was beautiful and a thousand things made him that way and I loved every single one. _I loved him._ And I still hadn't told him, he still didn't know. And that hurt, it hurt to know that he ever looked at me and didn't know that I'd chosen him, that I'd choose him over anything.

 _"Will,"_ I reached out and shook his shoulder lightly, heart thudding wildly, "Solace!"

Eventually, my voice tugged him out of the depths of his dream and he groaned softly, pressing his face into my pillow.

I smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, "Will. . ." I said his name like a miracle, because it was. He was my miracle, the one bright spot in my life.

His arms tightened around me, pulled me closer to him. "Neeks?"

"I think. . ." My voice caught in my throat for a moment and my next words were barely there at all, "I love you."

It felt like something was collapsing in my chest, breaking and crumbling. Something being destroyed. Making room for something else, something new, something brighter, something pure and good and stable. A riot in my ribcage, in my head.

Will's eyes flashed open, his mouth falling so he looked almost awed, but no words passed through.

A grin spread across my face, my nose pushed up against his briefly, _"I'm in love with you."_

His fingers came up to dust against my cheek, trembling, and his mouth opened, closed. At loss for words, staring at me and unable to come up with anything at all to say. That was alright, it would take a lot to fall for someone like me and I would wait forever for someone like him.

I nuzzled into his chest, sighed softly, "I just wanted you to know."

 


	14. Oh, Hush

I woke up feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, tangled in Will's long limbs. My face was barely an inch from his, swathed the in the early-morning sunlight that was filtering in from the gap between the curtain and the wall. It made him look like something that was frozen in time; a perfect photograph or an old artifact in a museum.

I almost couldn't believe that I hadn't jerked awake in the middle of the night for some unknown reason or as the after-effect of a nightmare, I hadn't tossed and turned restlessly for an hour just trying to get my mind to shut down or cried myself to sleep only to awaken exhausted because of it in the morning. I'd finally had an entire night of blissful, encompassing sleep. And then I'd opened my eyes and seen him, remembered, realized why.

This wasn't the first time we'd drifted off alongside each other, but it felt different. It felt like an assurance, like something special. Something drifting and settling, organizing itself into my chest. Something like that over-used concept in novels that sleep just comes easier with a second, welcoming presence nearby, but I'd never thought it was true until I had Will. I thought it was just a cliché with no backbone to it, no reality. (A lot of clichés were beginning to take root in my head, in my chest. As something concrete.)

Doesn't it just make sense, though? If a person can make you feel more happy and safe than anyone or anything else when you're awake, then why shouldn't they be able to do the same thing when you're asleep? It wasn't hard to believe it, looking at his peaceful features, the way one hand was tucked up under his cheek, his hair falling messily across his forehead and into his eyes.

I almost laughed out loud as I wondered what my Catholic family would say if they happened to walk into the room at that moment. The thought seemed funny, but I figured that if it actually happened it would be a lot less amusing and a lot more terrifying and awkward.

_Oh, yes, Marie. That's Will. Sleeping in my bed. With me. No homo, though._

I allowed myself a small snort and then focused in on Will again, considering waking him up, but he looked so placid that I shied away from the idea of disturbing him. I was feeling too restless to stay put, though, so I carefully pulled myself out of his embrace and stood up, trying to cause the least amount of disturbance as possible. Will stirred, his face contorting as he turned his head into the pillow and pulled the blankets closer to him, mumbling listlessly. I grinned--carelessly, weightlessly, overly buoyant--and leaned forward to brush my lips over his cheek before turning and quietly slipping out of the room.

I felt light and airy; _happy_ _._ The ardor was so pleasant that I fluttered down the stairs like I used to when I was little--both feet hitting each step before fluttering to the next, creating an off-beat tempo that echoed dully around the house--and couldn't help but keep a smile resting on my lips the whole time. Even as I drifted over to the pantry and pulled out our pancake mix; something so ordinary that it didn't even warrant a raised eyebrow, and yet there I was, smiling like an idiot at the bland off-white bag. I even considered doing it from scratch, the way Will had taught me, but ultimately decided that I was content being lazy and settled for doing it the easy way.

I went through all of the mundane steps, cursing under my breath when I tried to slip the spatula underneath the first pancake only to find that I'd forgotten to grease the pan, which meant scraping the ruined quick bread into the trash and starting the process all over again.

I continued to hum quietly as I worked, stacking the pancakes onto a plate. There were three finished and was just starting on the fourth when Will slipped his arms around me from behind, causing me to start slightly and flick batter off of the spatula and onto my shirt. _"Wiiilll!"_ I chastised, smiling as he pressed his lips the back of my neck.

"What?" he muttered into my ear, kissing the corner of my jaw when I turned my head to look at him, "Kiss me." He nuzzled my temple sleepily. I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of enternity like this; a morning full of warm kitchen smells and Will Solace. Sleepy kisses and wanting voices and mussed hair.

I laughed, letting him pull me around to face him, but ducking away as he started to lean in.

 _"Neeks!"_ Will pouted, trying to catch me when I dodged away from him, practically giggling.

He lunged after me as I darted around the little island in the middle of the kitchen, taking the bait, and I yelped and fled in the opposite direction, but it wasn't long before Will apprehended me and pushed me backward into the counter next to the stove.

Will pressed his body flat against mine, dashing any hopes of escape. "Got you," he whispered teasingly, his mouth a sinuous line and his eyes glittering with amusement.

I raised myself up to my tip-toes to give him a fleeting kiss, letting out a small, surprised noise when he swept me off my feet as I pulled away, setting me down on the counter's surface and moving in between my legs. He barely had to tip his head downward and connect his lips with mine, smiling against my mouth and running his thumb over my cheekbone. The spatula I was still holding clattered noisily to the floor and I pushed my hands through his hair, twisting my fingers into it as Will kissed me warmly, his hands flitting down to rest on my thighs. I didn't even notice when the pancake started burning, sending a putrid, singed smell into the air.

The house probably would have burned down, courtesy of our broken smoke detector (you'd think _my_ family would be a little more careful about that) and our own carelessness, if Hazel hadn't smelled the charred breakfast from where she was sitting in the living room and cut through the dining area in order to investigate why her weird step-brother was running around, burning things and laughing in the kitchen.

"Nico, I d--" she broke off with a choked noise as Will leapt away from me a moment too late. "Holy heck. . ."

Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Will; every line coiled tight and frozen in shock, eyes wide and trained on me, mouth open and stammering silently. But in my direct line of sight was my step-sister and nothing about her was certain.

"Hazel," I said seriously, slipping off of the counter slowly as she took a step backward, wide-eyed. "You have to promise me you won't tell Mom. _Please."_ I added the last word as she cast a disbelieving look over at Will.

She was looking back and forth between us like we were a puzzle and none of the pieces fit together quite right; her mouth couldn't seem to decide what to do with itself.

Smoke was still billowing from the pan, making everything in the room hazy, and it didn't seem important.

"You're. . ."

"Please don't tell Mom," I begged desperately, "I need to tell her myself. . . I just don't know how to explain yet. Hazel, you have to promise you won't tell anyone. _Especially_ not Frank."

An expression of utter confusion took over her face, twisting up her features, "What does _Frank_ have to do with any of this?"

"Just don't tell him, okay? Don't tell anyone. . . I-- I'll do anything. . ." My mind was on overdrive, "I just need time. I have to tell everyone by myself. Just. . ." The sentence ended in a defeated gust of air and got left there, abandoned and incomplete.

She swallowed once, her lips twitching, a dark crease in her forehead. Took a step back, locked her eyes onto Will, who was standing behind me now, one hand pressed into my back, steadying me. "Alright. . ."

It took my mind too long to process that, too long to comprehend that Hazel--distant and cold, someone I felt I hardly even knew despite sharing a roof and Sunday dinners with--wasn't going to lash out at me, make some cutting comment, was going to keep my secret, even. "You won't tell?" I asked it because this didn't feel like it could be so simple.

Hazel scoffed (I think that I was beginning to understand something about her-- that her brashness was not accidental, not just a part of her, but a defense mechanism), "I wouldn't _want_ to--" and broke off when I flinched, took a step back and ran straight into Will, who pushed me behind him, keeping a hand on me like an assurance.

"Just go." His voice was quiet and calm, almost gentle, but on the brink of becoming a threat. It carried the echo of a thousand other things. Things like, _Leave before you hurt him_ and _He's been hurt enough_ and _You've probably already hurt him._

She disappeared back into the other room and Will didn't waste any time turning to face me, touching my face, asking if I would be okay. I nodded numbly and he pressed a kiss to my forehead, pulled out a chair for me sit on, left me there to slowly feel nausea building up in my stomach while he opened the back door, aired out the kitchen, took care of the ruined pancake as quickly as possible.

Marie blundered into the room, looking disheveled in the kind of chaotic way that can only be accomplished in the morning or during natural disasters. Will was in the process of scraping the second ruined pancake of the hour into the trash, and she stared around in bewilderment before all of the pieces fit together (smoke slowly dispersing in the air, a stack of pancakes on the counter, the stove left on, Will using the spatula to forcibly remove something that looked like doughy charcoal from a pan) and she slumped against the wall, burying her fingers in her hair and seeming thoroughly disgruntled.

Will looked up in surprise and then quickly straightened, developing and easy smile overlayed with flushed cheeks and eyes that couldn't seem to keep from flicking toward me, "Good morning, Mrs. di Angelo."

Under normal circumstances, I would have found the entire thing unbelievably hilarious. As it was, I had to sit and work out how to shift my face into something that could pass for casual while my stomach folded in on itself and my brain shoved around unwanted thoughts that didn't seem to want to go away.

My step mother sighed deeply, "Good morning, Will. . ." It was a tone that suggested she'd ceased to be surprised by this kind of thing at this point, which was probably the truth. And then, after glancing around the room in confusion, "Where's Nico?"

He gestured with the spatula through the archway that led to where I was sitting at the table in the dining room. Probably too pale, too rattled, too horrified.

I knew that it was my turn to say something, that I should apologize, explain that I'd left the pancake on the burner for too long, tell her she could go back to bed, we were dealing with it. I just stared at her and felt my throat closing up because I couldn't imagine what she'd do if she knew what had even led to this whole mess.

Will quickly jumped back in, "Sorry about the smoke. . . and waking you up. We were messing around," I didn't miss how his cheeks flushed darker, barely noticeable, "and we forgot about the pancakes."

She was looking less irritated and more amused at this point, and pushed herself off the plaster, "It's fine. Just as long as you didn't do any permanent damage."

"Nope, no permanent damage. Unless you count the pancake." He looked down at the trashcan in dismay .

Marie laughed, sounding like it caught her off guard. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to go get a few more hours of sleep. Don't burn my house down. And turn off the stove."

Will immediately looked alarmed and rushed over to shut it off while Marie exited, shaking her head and casting an annoyed glance up at where the smoke detector was emitting a low, short screech that meant the batteries needed to be changed.

Will turned his focus on me, dropping his facade of normality. "Nico. . ."

And just like that, the world crumbled.

"Oh, _Dio."_ I covered my mouth with my hand like I was trying to keep all of my thoughts from spewing out. And there was Will, weeks ago with memories of his lips on my skin and his voice serious and soft, _You're the only one who can get your thoughts out into the world, Nico. They won't express themselves._ But I was thinking, _Did you see the look on her face? Did you hear what she said? What she started saying? Do you think my parents will be any different?_ and it felt wrong to put all of that on him because I knew it would come out sounding like an accusation.

He rushed over to drop to his knees in front of me and grip my free hand in his. "She said she won't tell. It'll be okay. It'll be okay, I promise."

I just shook my head, dropped my hand to grip his. (Both of ours.) "How can you know that? You can't promise anything."

His face fell into defeat, his hands tightened on mine. (On top of one, underneath the other.) "I know, I _know._ It kills me."

 _But won't you at least try?_ I didn't say it because I knew the answer already. I wanted to reach up to him and run my fingers through his hair. I didn't want to let go of his hands. Mine were shaking.

"I don't want to think," I told him, and it felt like I was exposing some sunken, unwanted part of myself. I was veering sharply off one dangerous, broken road and onto another.

Will just pushed himself upward until his nose was touching mine, slowly like he was afraid of startling me, "It's okay. Just focus on me."

I closed my eyes, squeezed his hand tighter. "They can't hate me for this, Will. I can't choose."

"Choose between what?" His head dropping into the crook of my neck. We should have been being careful now. Should have been hiding. I didn't want to be careful. (But I didn't want to be caught, I wanted to be reckless without consequence.)

"You or them. I can't. . ." My breath shuddered dangerously and I wondered if he could feel it in my chest the way I could feel him laughing when we were pressed close.

He was quite for a long time. "I think my heart would break either way."

"Even if I chose you?" I was staring up at the ceiling now, feeling detached and connected all at once.

I felt him nod, his nose digging into my skin, his lips just brushing it. "Because it would break you and I don't think. . . If you broke, I would break too, Nico. I--" His voice caught, his fingers twitched, "I love you."

I jerked suddenly, backward, pulled my hands from his so that I could lift his chin and look at him. He gasped like we were deep sea diving and I'd stolen away his oxygen. It'd be the worst kind of betrayal, to snatch away something that vital and leave him to float alone in a place so dark and vicious. (A place like the world, something vital like hands or lips or hearts.)

"Say it again." _So I can see that you mean it, so that I can know what it looks like on your lips, so I'm sure I didn't imagine it, so that maybe my chest can stop constricting._

His fingers flicked, fled upward, twitched against my wrist like a scared butterfly, "I love you."

The way he said it that time was achingly simple, like an irreversible law of logic. It was quiet and truthful and maybe just a bit terrified. Like he was taking on something too big for himself.

All of the air left my lungs; a punch to the gut. "I love you too."

"I know." His mouth was pulling itself into a slow smile, eyes full of awe, "I'm just sorry I didn't say it back sooner."

We leaned toward each other--magnets with opposite poles--and our lips met somewhere in the middle. I found myself thinking that when someone said _kiss_ this is what they meant. The purest, simplest form of the word. A perfect definition: just two people, hearts and lips and hands (vital things) hopelessly tangled. A subtle quiet. Oxygen mixing. (Another vital thing.) Wanting to cry or laugh and knowing neither one would be enough.

-

"Nico!" The voice on the other end of the line was frantic and dripping with too much enthusiasm to be speaking my name. Also, he was yelling, which made me wince and pull the phone away from my ear.

Will was smirking from across the room, his legs thrown into a careless position, one knee drawn partially up to his chest and the other splayed out at a diagonal, long enough to dip into the Atlantic if it wanted to. I stuck my tongue out at him and then put the receiver back against my ear, immediately wincing again, _"Leo--_ No-- I-- Would you _stop yelling!_ You do realize that I don't speak Spanish, right. . .? No, Italian is a _totally different--_ Yes I realize that they're technically-- _For the love of--_ Are those _dogs?"_

I propped my hip against Will's desk and watched him collapse into a fit of silent laughter on his bed. It made my chest tight in the kind of warm, airy way that only comes from a day like the one I was having. Too good to be true, something to be propped in a picture frame and remembered. I had to bite my lip and turn my head away in order to focus on the phone call and stop myself from hanging up right then and there. Doing something stupid like kissing Will all over his dumb face and making him laugh even harder.

"I'm getting a _dog,_ Death Breath." I could practically imagine him bouncing up and down. Actually, probably not _bouncing._ Leo may have been an idiot at times, but he was not a hyperactive toddler. (Probably.) He was most likely grinning from ear-to-ear in a way that was too mischievous to mean anything good.

My eyebrows shot up at that, "Are you sure that that's a good idea?" The idea of Leo trying to take care of something that wasn't mechanical was slightly terrifying.

Now he was most likely rolling his eyes, "Of course it's a good idea. I just need someone else's opinion. I'm terrible at making decisions."

"What makes you think _I'm_ good at decision-making?"

Will caught my eye and mouthed something I didn't quite catch through the huge grin spread across his face. He was flopped onto his back now, face tipped toward me and hair spilling across his forehead, sticking up at odd places.

I mouthed _What?_ as Leo huffed and admitted that I was the only person he knew who owned a dog. _("You have a bulldozer as a pet, what kind of dog-related problem_ can't _you solve?")_

Will tried to sound it out silently again, slower this time. It only made my brow wrinkle in confusion. "Just because I own a _Newfoundland_ doesn't mean that I'm an expert, Valdez."

He said something sly and filthy-sounding in Spanish, so I snapped at him in Italian. Which was pretty much how most of our arguments went, meaning they were over fast because both of us only had the slightest inclination as to what the other was spewing.

Leo grumbled something unintelligible and then sighed dramatically, "Come on, you owe me."

That was true. More than true, it was blatantly obvious. I probably owed him at least a dozen times over just in the last month. _"Fine."_

I hung up, abruptly cutting off Leo's victorious war-cry and the sound of three dozen canines having a gossip hour. "We're going puppy shopping."

Will laughed again: a single jerk of his shoulders, his face crinkling up, and something that was more a short huff of air out of his nose than anything else. "Of course, we are."

"It's Leo, I wouldn't be surprised if he called me up to help him stabilize a nuclear reactor." That made Will release another one of his shoulder-jerk-crinkle-huff laughs again, and I made my way over and perched myself on the edge of his bed, next to his hip. "Also. . . I haven't told him that we're dating yet. I mean. . . I know he would take it well-- Of course, he would take it well-- It's just. . . I've been. . . I know it's been like a month. . ." My breath caught at that. A month didn't seem long enough for me to have come this far, falling farther and farther every second to the point where Will seemed like everything, _was_ everything. Except it hadn't _just_ been this month, not really. I'd been falling for a long, long time before that party, ". . .Which is plenty of time to have-- I guess I could have. . . but I. . ." I was blushing and stuttering and not looking at Will's face, so I forced myself to breathe for a second, collect my thoughts before I continued. "Every time I try and say it, it feels like a stupid thing to say. Not the right time. Like-- I mean, we don't have to _hide it from him_ or anything, I just thought that you should know. . . that he doesn't. . . know. . . yet. . ."

Will took my hand gently, smiling in a crooked, endearing way. "It's fine, Nico. I get it."

I blushed in his general direction and then stood up, tugging his arm with me. "Let's go, then."

He let me pull him to his feet--both of his hands in mine, me rolling my eyes because he was just watching me try to heave his entire weight and enjoying it too much (he ended up having to haul himself up instead)--and then took an unnecessary step forward so that our toes were pressed together. "So, where is he, exactly?"

I let my forehead drop against his chest, face tightened up against my own stupidity, _"Merda._ I forgot to ask."

-

Leo turned out to be at a small shelter a few miles away, an older-looking building tucked away in a sidestreet that was home to printer companies and a handful of other businesses; a hardwood flooring warehouse, an auto repair shop with a whole lot of rusty cars, and an electric company, all of them white-washed and looking like they'd been sitting there collecting dust for too long.

Will pulled into the tiny, cracked parking lot next to a shiny black Tahoe and squinted doubtfully at the building, which looked like a tiny prison someone had planted hoards of trees around and painted baby blue in an attempt at lightening the mood. (Paired with the bitingly cold air, grey sky, and the fact that most of said trees were completely bare, it was a hit-and-miss.) "You sure this is it?"

I shrugged, "I dunno. That's what your GPS said."

He just huffed and kicked open his door, shooting me a quick grin, "Only one way to find out."

I laced our fingers together as we approached the building, the tell-tale sounds of animals being the only thing keeping me from dragging him back to the car and making him drive us home. "This is creepy."

There were windows, about five of them of varying sizes between the two doors at either end, but each one had curtains draped across the opposite side, blocking our view of the interior. The largest one, the kind of thing that looked like it belonged in the drive-thru of a fast food place, was boarded up and had a small sign nailed crudely above it that featured a friendly border collie and the words, _Second Chance Society._

"Tell me about it." He was scrutinizing the door, which did not look friendly and inviting the way most doors leading to businesses did, but was instead thick and windowless, the kind of thing you'd expect from an underground meth lab or the lair of a psychopathic murderer.

We stood there for about ten seconds, neither of us moving an inch save for our fingers slowly tightening around each other, before the door burst open and we both yelped and about fell over in our frantic stumble backward. Leo stood in the doorway, hair flying around his head and both of his eyebrows reaching for the heavens.

He looked from me, to Will, to our hands, which were still firmly woven together, and his face spread into a slow, satisfied smirk. "Well. It looks like _someone_ came to terms with his sexuality."

Will let out a small, poorly disguised snicker and bumped his hip against mine. I rolled my eyes angrily and marched forward, pulling him with me and past Leo, who had to flatten himself against the doorframe to avoid getting trampled.

We found ourselves in a cramped but well-lit lobby furnished only with a sturdy desk, a few cabinets, and several chairs lining the walls, which were filled with pictures of animals and posters detailing things from the bones in different animals' legs to which type of food was best for each pet.

Standing just in front of the counter was a middle-aged man with a short, stocky build, greying black hair, a small nose, and sharp green eyes.

Will crashed into me from behind and let out a noise that was half apologetic and half startled as I pulled up short, surprised by his presence in the room. The man just gave us an amused smile and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "You are here with the Valdez family?" He had a thick accent that made the soft 'th' sound seem harsher, closer to a 'd' and did something to his vowels that made them all resemble each other.

I nodded at the same time Leo appeared at my side, confirming the question with a quick, flashing grin and, "Righ-io, sir."

The man chortled shortly, "This way, then," and made his way over to a door with a hazy window that looked into a room filled with kennels and muffled the sounds of claws scrabbling excitedly and varying barks from high-pitched yips to long, wavering bays.

We followed him in and found Leo's parents in front of a cage that housed a tiny fur ball that was practically shaking with excitement. "Leo," Mrs. Valdez smiled warmly as we approached and gestured to the dog, "what do you think of this one?"

Leo frowned doubtfully and Esperanza shifted her gaze to us, looking thoroughly exasperated, "He's been doing this for at least an hour."

Hephaestus just sighed mournfully at his son, "We can't seem to agree on anything."

Leo turned his gaze on us as well, looking more urgent than I believed the situation called for, "Which is why I need your help. Come on, let's go look."

Will and I trailed after him as he plunged on to the next row of cages. "Okay. So, the _actual_ reason that I need you here is to help me convince my parents to get a dog that _I_ want."

"Right," Will said seriously, brow furrowing like he was already writing up a speech in his head.

I just raised an eyebrow at him, "Do you already have a specific dog in mind?"

Leo cleared his throat and then pointed at me like he was a literature professor I'd just made a very interesting point, "No."

I rolled my eyes, Will developed a crazed grin, and Leo started rambling off a mile-long list of all of the attributes he wanted in a dog.

Ten minutes later, we were on the other side of the shelter, sitting in a pen full of puppies. Will was holding one up between our faces, talking in a high-pitched voice, and I was trying (and failing) to hold a solid glare on my face.

 _"Nico,_ don't look so grumpy. I _looovvveeee_ you!"

I let out a disbelieving huff that came out more like a laugh than I'd actually intended, "It's not the puppy that I have a problem with, it's the annoying guy behind her."

Will sat up straighter in indignation, setting the puppy down, _"Hey!"_

Behind us, Leo was snickering quietly, "How long has this been going on?"

I turned to look at him incredulously, "How long has _what_ been going on?"

"Oh, _please."_ Leo rolled his eyes and then flicked his gaze back to us, about seven tons of amusement waiting beneath the surface of his pupils, per the usual. "When did you pull the stick out of your ass? _Or,_ more accurately, when did Will put the stick _up_ your--"

 _"LEO!"_ I was a very unflattering shade of red at this point and Will was slumped back against the wall, laughing at the ceiling.

Leo just shrugged and grinned at Will, "Your boyfriend thought it was funny."

I managed to blush even more and Leo looked altogether too pleased with himself.

"Maybe we should look at the bigger dogs again. . ." I was already standing up and trying to work the gate open.

"But _Neeks,_ there are _puppies_ here!" Will was cuddling a little black and white one to his chest.

I turned around just to kick his leg lightly, "That's tough."

Will harrumphed, but eventually allowed me to tug him to his feet and out the gate, Leo trailing behind us.

After about an hour, Leo finally settled on a dog. Will found him hidden in the back corner of the shop and the dog leaped up so fast and barked so loud when he turned the corner that Will actually yelped.

He was a middle-aged Golden Shepard with sharp, vibrant eyes and a scar across his nose. Leo loved him because he was full of life and because when they met each other, he shoved his nose through the bars and practically demanded that we take him home with us.

"I'm naming him Festus," Leo told us at the front counter, and grinned at his new dog, scrubbing his fingers through the Golden Shepard's neck fur.

Esperanza was busy filling out some type of form, and looked up at us with pursed lips, "Is it the 24th?"

"25th," Leo answered immediately, and I sucked in a startled breath.

Will, who had been carefully smoothing his hand over Festus' head with a grin on his face, looked up at me in concern, "You okay?"

"Yeah. It's just, my birthday is on Thursday."

Will immediately straightened, staring at me in disbelief, "And you're just telling me this now? I have to. . . buy you a gift and-- You're going to be seventeen!"

"Will," I laughed, "you don't have to do anything, really. It's fine."

"Nico di Angelo," he deadpanned, "You have got to be kidding me."

-

Things like birthdays aren't actually special. 

Just because a date on the calendar is labeled as something important, that doesn't give it the power to make problems dissolve or smiles easier to tug on. I still walked home with new bruises forming under my shirt, the only difference was that when I reached my house, balloons were tied to the banister, my father was home for the rest of the month, and my step mom was humming in the kitchen (my father's loud laughter accompanying it made the house feel warmer, somehow).

My birthday was never a huge event, but my parents always tried to make it special.

Will got there early and took the first opportunity allotted to him to pull me close and press a lingering kiss onto my lips, murmuring softly to me. That, more than anything, was what made me realize that this year was a bit different.

There were several more friendly faces sitting around the kitchen table waiting for me to blow out the candles than I was used to. When they sang to me, the Solaces were purposefully off-key, Leo sang in Spanish, my father sang in Italian, my step mom laughed from behind the camera, and Hazel's friend (a girl with stormy grey eyes and blonde hair who kept looking at me with enough intensity to melt iron) nudged her in the ribs and got her singing as well.

It was late by the time I was opening presents and Kit was nodding off in Will's lap, fighting to try and keep her eyelids from drooping any further, but it was a losing battle. She slipped away before I had even started in on the second one.

Will insisted that I save his for last, so when the time came, he carefully passed Kit off to his mom and brought forward a silver bag stuffed with tissue paper.

He folded himself onto the floor in front of me, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth. The set of his shoulders was nervous, the way he passed the bag to me was hesitant.

I held his gaze for a few moments--letting him know that it was okay, the fact that he'd even brought me anything was enough--before switching my gaze to the gift.

I pulled out two things: a book and a small box.

When I rose my eyes back up to Will, he was blushing fiercely, "It's my favorite book. And I... Well, I wrote..." He cleared his throat nervously, smiling at me, "You'll see."

A small laugh spilled out of me, "Okay."

He shook his head slightly and pulled the box out of my hands, "And this..." He opened it and drew out a necklace, laying it on his hand so that I could see. It was a wooden guitar pick, once painted in bright colors that were now faded drastically; a swirling sun with his name printed across it. His breath shuddered softly when he caught my attention again, "It... It means a lot."

I nodded slowly, hoping to convey to him how much I wanted to lean forward and kiss him right then. From the grin that settled on his face, I gathered that the message was received.

"Thank you," I told him, and felt my eyelids flutter half-closed when he slipped the cord over my head, letting his knuckles dust my cheeks.

He sat back, running a thumb over the surface of the pick before letting it drop against my chest. The exact moment it hit my T-shirt was the moment I caught sight of my mother over his shoulder.

There was a strange expression on her face, like she was solving a tough puzzle. Next to her, Hazel was looking away with an air of distaste.

It made my breathing shudder and chest contract. My fingers curled over the book's cover and Will's mouth had only half-formed a soundless inquiry by the time I was on my feet, turning away and scooping up gifts from the mess of tissue and wrapping paper on the floor, saying something about putting them in my room.

Behind me, Will was scrambling to his feet, grabbing a few things before I could get to them and meeting my gaze with a stubborn set to his jaw. "Let me help," he said, and it meant much more than the words themselves.

We stood there like that for several seconds, facing off. My heart was pounding loudly, blood pumping through my veins with an unusual boldness. It wasn't anger that tensed up my shoulders or caused the hesitation. It was that I could feel people watching us, knew my stepmother was among them, knew that racing off to my room with Will had its implications.

There wasn't exactly a casual way to tell him no.

I gave a small nod, turned, and exited the room to race up the stairs. Will's footsteps thudding after mine, a loud ricochet of sound that abruptly halted when we reached the top.

Will stood by quietly under the glow of my lamp and watched as I slowly found a place for each thing in my room. An assortment of art supplies from my parents that had me itching to pull out my sketchbooks; I tucked it away safely in the bottom drawer of my desk, a framed picture of Will and I from his parents; I carefully settled it on my dresser, a drawing from Kit; I taped it to my closet with a smile, Will's book; I slipped it into my bookcase next to my copy of _Dirty Magi_ c by Carol Hughes.

I tugged Leo and Hazel's gifts from his hands: a black T-shirt with a discrete band logo printed across the front and navy blue mug filled with my favorite candy. He waited until I'd set the mug down on my desk and slipped the shirt into a drawer before he spoke.

"Nico?"

I turned to face him and pulled my focus up to his with a small measure of difficulty. "I'm sorry." It was a fight not to let my eyes wander away.

I watched him move closer, let him fuss with my hair and smooth out my shirt and kiss my nose. "I can't think of anything you should be sorry for, Nico."

I caught at his shirt and fisted my hands in it, stared at my knuckles. His hands were coming gradually to rest at my hips.

"I think Marie knows. Or suspects something."

His breath caught at that. I pressed my hands more firmly into his ribs.

"She loves you, Neeks. She loves you and... _Nico."_ The last part was because I'd pulled myself away from him, turned my back.

I pushed a hand through my hair, squeezing my eyes shut, "You don't know how she'll react, Solace. You just don't. And if she knows and Hazel knows... my dad is going to find out too. She'll tell him or. . . or. . . We just. . . _can't. . ."_

I knew he was standing behind me with a hopeless droop in his stature.

"Are you. . ." I recognized the scared tremble in his voice, "Are you breaking up with me?"

I whirled on him so fast it left the room spinning, _"What?"_ I rushed forward and gripped his hands, "No. Oh. . . Will, I'm sorry. I didn't mean. . . I can't believe you'd think. . . I'm so sorry I even gave you a reason to consider that. . ."

His shoulders deflated, his breath rushing out of him all at once, "Thank God."

My hands made their way up to his face messily, "I just meant. . ." My thumb traced a path under his eye, "We've got to be more careful."

Will's mouth slowly pulled into a grin as he bumped his nose against mine. "I just don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands off of you."

I laughed at him, pushing my hands into his hair when he kissed me slowly.

He had scars in his mouth, raised slashes across his cheeks and shelves of scar tissue underneath his lips. Like anxiety building up, teeth digging into flesh over and over and over, so constant that he never healed from it.

I pulled back, pushing on his chest as he tried to chase my lips with his. "This is what I mean. . ." I mumbled, "We can't just-- _Will. . ._ stand in the middle of my room and. . ."

He was laughing softly, burying his face the side of my neck.

"Hey." I pulled back completely, holding his shoulders and looking him in the eye, "I'm serious. . ."

Will's expression fell, "I know. I know. I'm sorry."

I bit my lip, my eyebrows furrowing, "If my parents walked in, Will. . . I just don't know. . . I don't even know what I'd do let alone what _they'd_ do." My breathing was becoming more shallow, grip tightening on Will, nails digging into his shoulders through his T-shirt, "Will. What if--"

Will caught at my chin, "Oh, hush and shush. _Ssshhh."_

That wrenched at my heart and left me breathless because he said it with such a soft intensity in his voice:  _Oh, hush all of the insecurities, shush the constant fear. Ssshhh, it will be alright._

I pulled away from him and walked back across the room in order to crawl onto my bed. Outside the window, I could see my guests departing. It was late at night, after all. I didn't have it in me to go down and say goodbye, I just tugged the curtain closed and flopped down.

A month ago, Will would have probably perched himself in my office chair or carefully placed himself with at least four inches between us, knowing that we'd gravitate towards one another eventually, but now wasn't a month ago and so he laid down close enough that all I had to do to kiss him was turn my head. I sought out his hand and tangled our fingers together instead, eyes pinned to the ceiling.

Not long after, a knock sounded at the door. With a startled gasp, I detached my hand from his and folded it over my stomach instead, keeping my voice level as I called for whoever it was to come in.

My parents stepped through. I noticed Marie's eyes flicking from me to Will and back again and was torn somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to run or maybe hide.

"We just wanted to come in and wish you a happy birthday one last time. . ." she said, and my father grinned at me, _"Bu_ _on compleanno."_

I sat up slowly to give them both a grin, "Thank you. For everything. Today was amazing."

Hades' hand settled on Marie's shoulder; there was a softness in his expression as he looked at me, "It is no problem. We want you to be happy, Nico."

I felt a part of myself, somewhere buried deep down inside my chest, pang hollowly at that. I wanted to reach out and grab Will's hand again, I wanted to stare them down recklessly, I wanted to tell them that _he_ made me happy.

I couldn't do any of that. (I could. The larger, frightened, part of me wouldn't allow it.)

"I am."

My father's gaze flicked over to Will, who was still laying down, legs spilling over the side of the mattress. "Is William spending the night?"

My mother's eyebrows twitched upward. She said nothing. 

I didn't want him to go.

My subconscious whispered not to be stupid.

Every other part of me thundered wildly.

I looked my father in the eye and said yes, felt Will flinch in surprise next to me. It was a single word, and yet, for a second after I said it, I expected my world to crumble inward.

I received a kiss on the forehead from Marie and stood up to accept the hug Hades' offered, and then they were gone. The air seemed to quiver around me, Will sat up and reached forward to tug me around to face him. His eyes were wide.

I looked down at our hands, "I didn't want you to leave."

"Shit."

I knew he was confused. He had every right to be; I'd just contradicted everything I'd told him not five minutes ago.

"Nico di Angelo, you're an idiot."

I looked up at him, "Lay down, Will."

He didn't let go of my hand, just shifted and threw his legs up onto my bed, which made things a little awkward when I climbed up next to him and slumped down.

We were quiet for a long, long time. Long enough that the house quieted down, it's occupants resigning themselves to sleep. And it was nice. Just feeling Will's rough palm pushed against my smoother one and thinking along to the rhythm of our breaths.

He turned toward me at one point, inched himself forward until his front was flush with my side and he could hitch his chin over my shoulder, draw our hands into his chest, throw a leg over mine.

"Is this okay?" he whispered softly, and I nodded without looking at him, giving his hand a squeeze, "There's no one up to walk in."

It was mostly dark on this side of the room, the glow from the lamp perched on top of my dresser fell mostly short of the bed. We were cast in shadows and partial light. No words were being traded between us, but I felt like the quiet said all of the things I could 't.

"Nico." Said like he was regretful of the broken silence, and I closed my eyes because I could feel his breath on my cheek.

After a long pause, he nudged his nose against my jaw playfully. "I still don't know what you see up there."

I smiled because I knew he was remembering one of our first conversations, just like I was. "Nothing. It's just a canvas."

"A canvas for what?"

"My thoughts. Ones I can't form into concrete pictures."

Will drew backward enough to tug on my hand--not just pull it closer into his chest--and convey without words that he wanted me to face him. When I rolled onto my side, not closing the space between us, but keeping my fingers locked with his, he tightened his grip and whispered, "I'll be your canvas instead. For words, not paintings."

I ran my thumb over the back of his hand, held his gaze, lips twitching with a barely restrained smile, "I'm in love with a _boy."_ My voice was all willowy and awe-struck.

Will grinned at me, "Yeah. So am I."

I bit my lip, tried to keep myself from smiling stupidly, "I can't see it any other way. I can't see myself loving anyone but you, Solace. Not like this."

"Like what?"

I sighed softly, let the room become quiet while I tried to think up an answer for that. "Like I'd rather lose anything than lose you, like you're vital, like every tiny little thing you do makes me want to kiss you. I look at you and I think stupid things. Like your freckles are like little stars, like you look like something from a museum, like your smile is brighter than daylight and I just--" I broke off because Will was grinning so much I thought his face might split, "What?"

He just pushed closer until we were tangled together again. "Nothing," His eyes were alive, his voice was breathless, "Just keep talking."

I could feel my cheeks burning up and I shut my eyes self-consciously, continued in Italian so that I could say everything that needed to be said and still keep it a secret. _"Non voglio più ai lasciarti andare, Solace. Ho paura di dimenticare cosa vuol dire baciarti. Voglio solo. . . Dio, è tutto così confuso, Will. Amarti mi fa soffrire così tanto e non mi importa. Lo amo. Ti amo. Io_ ti amo."

I felt Will moving and my eyes fluttered open to find him drawing himself up until he could nudge me onto my back and settle in with his knees to either side of my hips, elbows to either side of my jaw. "I hardly hear you say anything in Italian other than swear words." His nose was brushing mine and his voice was hushed, eyelids drooping lazily and mouth twitching upward.

I let out a huff of amusement, touching his cheek lightly, "No one would be able to understand me otherwise."

"I know. . ." He trailed off and kissed me softly like he'd gotten distracted midway through what he was saying, "but it's pretty."

I just tugged him closer for another kiss. It was a slow waltz of lips and tongue, an absolute. It was Will making a soft, lovely sound against my mouth and pressing in until I didn't remember anything else.

I let out a shocked, needful gasp when Will finally drew himself away; he sighed and bent down to pull my shirt aside and kiss the mark there softly. I blushed, remembering the way he'd worked it onto my skin so carefully. Like it was a masterpiece. Remembering his eyelashes fluttering and his nose touching mine. His words, "You're mine. And I'm yours."

I'd tugged him closer and replicated the mark on his skin, over his freckles. "And we match."

Now I reached up to touch his shoulder softly, the place I thought it would be under his shirt, and he moved, kissed the soft skin under my chin, on my neck. A growl sounded in his throat as his nose pressed in against the spot, and I touched his hair carefully, "Will?"

"I _want. . ."_ he choked, and nudged his nose against my jaw helplessly.

"What?"

Kissing my cheek, breathing against it like I was all that mattered, "You."

"You have me." I pushed a hand through his hair, lifted his chin to look him in the eye.

A smile touched his lips, "I know."

I grinned at him, "Turn over."

Will laughed and dropped off of me onto his back so that I could swing my legs over his hips and trace the line of his shoulders, look down at him, see him from a whole new angle. The right side of his face was all dusky light making his freckles sharp, startling things and subtle shadows that flowed through his hair and hid under his jaw. The left was all soft darkness overlaid with a more stark darkness that pooled in the crease between his lips and the hollow under his cheekbone. On both sides, wide eyes bluer than any winter afternoon. "You're beautiful, Will."

He just reached up and looped his arms around my neck, smiled lazily, "You're pretty."

That ended up staining my cheeks red, "Hmph."

He pulled downward so I had no choice but to bend low over him until his breath was whispering across my lips. "It's true."

"Whatever, Solace." All I could do was stare and breathe and feel.

Will drew a thumb across my cheek, made a content sound when my eyes fluttered closed. I got lost in it, in his hands running softly down my back, up my arms, fingers in my hair, dusting my neck. His kisses were all gentle caresses and warm pressure pulling me in. I could feel him chuckling against my mouth more than I could hear him and it made me smile, so I pulled away to kiss the corner of his lips, his cheek, touched my nose to his briefly so I could look him in the eye and know that he was mine.

His fingers were dancing prettily against my spine, drawing swirling patterns as I caught his lips in another drawn-out kiss. The sigh that penetrated the silence when I moved down to press a kiss against his jaw was all of the encouragement I needed to continue.

Will's skin was soft and pliant under my mouth and it was nearly impossible to try and keep from testing it, from biting and sucking softly to see if it was as fragile as it seemed, so I didn't attempt to hold back at all. It tasted just like it looked, as gentle as rose petals, strangely soothing and completely addictive. I didn't think at all about it when I drew my tongue slowly across the ridged line of his trachea, feeling the shape of it under his skin, memorizing how he tasted. His fingers were twitching at my hips, and he sighed roughly and stretched out beneath me as I let my nose drag back down before I kissed his collarbones lightly, eliciting a harsh jerk of Will's hips that made me suck in a sharp breath and push myself back up to look down on him.

His head was thrown back with abandon, tilted so only the left side of his face was visible and the line of his jaw stood out sharply against everything else. His eyelids were a pretty shade of almost-pink, fluttering minutely, and his mouth was hanging limply open as if he'd forgotten how to close it. I was staring partially because he looked painstakingly beautiful, but mostly because I hadn't even realized what type of effect I was having on him.

Slowly, drowsily, his eyes drew themselves open and he turned his head to look at me. Our gazes met and he let out a breathy noise that originated from somewhere deep in his throat before pushing himself up onto his elbows to exhale my name against my jaw. Will nosed against my cheek and it was like he just couldn't help himself, like it was the only option in the universe, and kissed me with marvelous intent, slow and careful. After several seconds, one hand lifted to curl into my hair and he lowered himself slowly with the other, folding his legs over my hips to drag me closer and lick into my mouth.

 _"Solace,"_ I gasped, and he turned us--delicately as if he was caught up in a dream--so that his whole weight was pressed down against me, and kissed my neck with that same agonizing slowness.

I could feel every inch of him, his hip bones digging into the space below mine, his legs flexing against my thighs, his fingers barely dusting my cheeks. Will's mouth was a match, striking and creating sparks that flew and flared up as his lips caressed the soft skin of my throat. My breathing hitched and I tilted my head back into the pillow, arching against him. The flames lapping over my skin leaped hungrily, spreading slowly through my nerves, leaving every bit of the heat to collect almost painfully in my abdomen.

He pulled himself upward--sliding against me and pulling a soft groan from my throat--to hug my waist tightly with his thighs, and my fingers caught listlessly the fabric of his shirt, twisting it around themselves as he bit at my jaw and then kissed it almost apologetically, muttering quietly to me; telling me that I was beautiful, that he needed me, that he wanted to take care of me. It left me uncoiled and open-mouthed, listening to him whisper softly like he was cutting his heart out of his chest and handing it to me.

 _Wanted and needed and loved._ His mouth painting pictures across my skin, my head spinning in disbelief. _He thinks I'm beautiful._

One hand was sliding against my stomach, his rough fingertips moving lightly over my skin and making me shiver. All I could think was that I wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could and the soft cotton of his T-shirt was only in the way.

I slid my hands around to his front, feeling Will tremble and _wanting._ It only took a small tug at the hem for him to sit up and pull the garment over his head; toss it across the room, his eyes fastened to mine the entire time. He really was beautiful, all ridged, curving lines sprinkled with freckles.

He started to lean back down, his expression almost pained, but I stopped him with palms braced lightly against his chest. There was a moment where his face tightened into confusion and then it quickly unraveled--eyes fluttering shut, mouth uncoiling into a feathery shape--when I slipped my hands over his shoulders and clasped them together behind his neck in order to draw myself up and press honeyed kisses over the constellations there.

His head dropped against my shoulder and I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, turned my head to kiss just below his ear and let out a low whimper, just because I knew it would undo him.

"Nico. . ." It sounded almost reverent and Will's hands, braced on the mattress next my hips in order to keep me from dragging us both down, inched forward until I was laid back and he could kiss me again; sucking on my lips, brushing his tongue against mine, rolling his hips down until we were both panting.

He kissed me and I forgot my own name.

He whispered it to me, _"Nico,_ " like a mantra, and I learned it all over again.

He pulled me closer and it didn't seem that important anymore.

 _"Will,"_ I whispered back, because it was everything I knew, and he muttered something I couldn't quite catch into my hair. His tone was enough to make my chest heave and my fingers curl against his back.

I was breathing heavily as Will's hands moved down to the buttons on my jeans, his blue eyes were dark and his expression loose, almost lost, as he unzipped my pants and helped me get them off, moving upward again to kiss me, our breathing stark and uneven in the quiet of my room. His long fingers moved up my thighs and under my shirt, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he pulled himself back down, bending to kiss just above the hem of my boxers, just once, as sweet and sure as every other movement, sliding his fingers upward--

Pain, bright and sudden, flared across my ribs and horror made me gasp and seize up, fingers curling and nails biting harshly into the smooth skin of his back. For a split second, Will's head jerked upward and our eyes locked together before I threw myself into action, pushing him away from me. I'd been too caught up in the moment, in him, to remember that I had secrets to keep hidden.

Will looked at me with wide, scared eyes laced with shock and confusion. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His words were a frantic rush of syllables.

I scrambled out from under him and pressed my back against the headboard, clutching at my ribs, my eyes wild with panic.

"Nico?" he said worriedly, his breathing was labored as he reached towards me, but I flinched and scuttled off the end of my mattress, backing up and hugging myself as I stared into his deep blue eyes, pleading with him not to come closer.

Will crawled to the edge, not acknowledging my silent pleas, and I realized that now I'd done myself in. Where before I'd been hidden by uncertain light and heavy shadows, now I'd thrown myself right under the lamp's glow and the bruises on my legs were thrown into stark relief. He took them in: a patchwork of green, blue, and purple marks that showed just how weak I was, and looked sickened.

 _Oh,_ Dio. _I'm disgusting._

"Who did this?" A hushed tone, looking up at my face now.

I shook my head, taking another step back. Heart colliding with my ribcage. "It's nothing."

"Nico, that is _not_ nothing."

I turned my face away from him, eyes clenched tightly shut, "Yes, it is. You don't need to worry about it," but my voice wobbled as he pushed himself off the mattress.

"Yes, I do. Nico--"

"No," I choked, turning my back towards him as he reached me and recoiling from his touch. "Please, go." The words came out as a gasp and I hunched my shoulders as if I might be able to get small enough so he couldn't see me. I could feel the tears threatening to flood over my cheeks and I shook my head, rubbing my naked arms. I felt so extremely exposed standing there in front of him.

"It's alright, Nico." Confused, scared, concerned, loving, desperate. All words to describe Will in that moment, but all I could think was, _He thinks I'm disgusting. Weak. He's right. He's right. He's right._

Will reached toward me again and I tried to avoid him, struggling as he pulled me around to face him. Sobs tore themselves from my throat and I pushed against his chest, desperate to get away.

"Neeks, calm down. It's _okay,"_ he told me wildly, taking my face in his hands and using his thumbs to brush the tears away from my face.

I gave up on struggling, leaning my face into his hand, splaying my fingers across his bare chest, no longer trying to shove him back. My tears slicked the skin of his palm.

"Oh, gosh. _Nico,"_ Will whispered, running his fingers over my cheeks, brushing tears away, kissing my face, trying to put me back together with gentle gestures as I broke down more and more with each second. It was like a dam had collapsed inside of me, allowing a torrent of bottled up emotion and pain to finally come free. I hated it, I hated the fact that I could fall apart so easily, that I could let him see the ugly skin I'd been so careful to keep out of sight for so long. It seemed like I was always coming to pieces and crying into Will's shoulder.

 _"Sshh._ Focus on me." He brushed a kiss over the tip of my nose and I sucked in a ragged breath, trying to concentrate all of my senses on the boy in front of me. His fingers grazed my jawline, pushed strands of hair from my face, his lips moved from the corner of my eye to the edge of my mouth, sweeping up tears. He took my hands in his, kissing the tips of my fingers, my knuckles, running his thumbs over the backs of my hands.

"I love you," he muttered, his voice rough and raw with emotion as he nudged the tip of his nose against my cheekbone. _"I love you."_

I wondered if he was trying to convince himself or me; maybe both. A hiccupping sob escaped my lips and he caught it with his own and then took my face in his hands, looking me in the eyes, his eyelashes were beaded with tears, a constellation of tiny stars that was tragically beautiful."You're okay. You're safe."

He started drawing me towards him, but I pulled away, pressing my palms against him to keep him from moving forward again. I wasn't okay. Safe, yeah, of course I was safe. I'd be safe as long as Will was nearby, but there were too many thoughts racing around in my head to call myself okay. "Please, go," I muttered again, my gaze meeting everything in the room but Will's face.

"Nico--"

I forced myself to look him in the eye, "I just need to be alone," I explained feebly, taking a few steps away from him and letting my hands fall to my sides. Then, feeling exposed and awkward again, I wrapped them back around myself. I knew how pathetic I must have looked, standing in nothing but a T-shirt and boxers, my scrawny, bruised legs on display, tears still making their way over my face.

"Let me stay," he pleaded, "I just want to make sure you're okay."

As he stood there, desperately trying to talk some sense into me, to make me realize that the last thing I needed to be was alone, I came to the realization that the reason eyes are so beautiful is not their color, but the words and emotion that play out in them. It hit me that my eyes must be so hollow, so empty, because I never let them express what I was really feeling.

_How is it even possible to love someone like this, like me?_

I shook my head yet again, even I hadn't known it was possible to cry this much in such a short period of time. I knew I must look like a drowned rat. "Go," I choked; it wasn't a request anymore, but a demand, and Will seemed to realize that.

Looking like it tore him in two to do so, Will bent and picked up his discarded shirt from the ground and slipped out, pausing in the doorway to remind me that he loved me, and then left me (tore his hands away from the door and practically dragged himself from the room) to stare at the white surface of the door, feeling void of thoughts, emotion, everything. The sound of the front door closing seemed to snatch away any resolve I had left.

I crumpled to the floor and sobbed, knotted my fingers in my hair, rocked back and forth like an abandoned child trying to console itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
>  _"Buon compleanno."_ \- Happy birthday
> 
>  _"Non voglio più ai lasciarti andare, Solace. Ho paura di dimenticare cosa vuol dire baciarti. Voglio solo. . . Dio, è tutto così confuso, Will. Amarti mi fa soffrire così tanto e non mi importa. Lo amo. Ti amo. Io_ ti amo." - I never want to let you go, Solace. I'm afraid I'll forget what it's like to kiss you. I only want. . . God, it's so confusing, Will. Loving you hurts so much and I don't care. I love it. I love you. I _love you._


	15. Dissonance of Mind

It was strange, being in a room full of people and still feeling completely alone.

All around me, there were voices. Hundreds of them; laughing and shouting and joking. But it all felt a little bit distant. The hollowness in the pit of my stomach was slowly becoming a suffocating black hole.

Next to me, Leo was rambling about something, laughing at his own joke. I wasn't really listening, though. I was more focused on the irregular vibrations of my cell phone. Every single one signaled a text from Will.

Things like: _Are you okay?_ and _Please just tell me you're alright,_ and _Talk to me, Nico. I'm worried about you._

I knew for a fact that he _was_ worried, that he was probably chewing non-stop at his cheeks and lips and tugging on his hair, fidgeting. I should have texted him back, just a quick couple of words to put him at ease. But every time I opened up my phone, I just felt sick. Because he _knew_ . He _saw_ and he _knew_ and no one was meant to know. No one was meant to have seen that.

I kept seeing the horror in his face when he looked at me. Kept reliving the desperate way he'd wiped away my tears and whispered to me. I didn't want to face him again, didn't want him to look at me like I was breakable and fragile, didn't want him to be scared because of something that was my problem in the first place.

"Nico? _Nico?"_ I snapped my focus back to Leo's face, his lips were pursed tightly, his brows drawn inward. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he looked at me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded stiffly, my gaze slipping off of his face, "I'm good."

Leo just let out a disbelieving huff, "You don't have to lie to me, Nico. I know more of your secrets than just about anyone."

It was a punch to the gut, realizing that that was true. That Leo Valdez held all of the darkest parts of my life in his oil-stained hands and hadn't let them spill, not even once.

I dragged my focus back up to his face. Choked, "Last night. . . Last night, Will saw my bruises."

Leo blanched at that. And then quickly recovered. There was a long pause, a sort of not-silence filled with the echoing, meaningless tumble of voices from all around us, but still no words between us. "You know, that's not such a bad thing."

Now it was my turn to gape. _"Really?_ Tell me, Leo, how is that _not_ a bad thing?"

He threw his hands in the air, "How is it _so_ horrible? How is it such a terrible thing that this guy that you care about so much knows that someone is _hurting you?_ How is it just. . . so overwhelmingly _awful_ that you might just get some help now? I know you're scared. And for good reason, too. Percy Jackson is a dick, Nico, but if you let other people help, then you can beat him for once."

My breathing suddenly seemed much heavier. All I could think was, _If someone knows then I will have told and Percy will_ know _that I told and it will only get worse. It's only going to get worse._ I shook my head, gripping the edge of the table, "No, it's not. . . It's not that simple. If Percy finds out that I _told--"_

"Nico, if you tell, then there's no way anyone is going to let Percy _near_ you again."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Look, I'm keeping your secret because you want me to. . . but it's just. . . It's getting ridiculous." He didn't say it mockingly, didn't spit the words in my face or laugh. He just sat there and stared at me like he _cared_ and it hurt because I didn't get it, I didn't get why he cared when all I ever did was dump my problems on him.

 _"Dio._ Leo. . ."

He frowns at me, "What?"

I shook my head, averting my gaze back to the table, "It's just not that simple. We can't tell anyone. . . I. . . I don't know if they'd even believe me."

"You have a whole school full of witnesses."

I huffed, setting my eyes on him again, "Yeah. A whole school full of witnesses who are too scared of Percy to do anything about it anyway."

Leo looked stumped at that. Eventually, he just muttered, "Fine. I won't tell. . . Not yet, anyway."

I nodded, several seconds passed, and then Leo had started talking again, trying to lighten the mood with dumb jokes that make me smile despite myself. But, even so, there was a heavy stone settled in the pit of my stomach for the rest of lunch.

-

Will stopped texting me at some point just after lunch. He'd sent a total of forty-one messages and I hadn't responded to a single one. I wasn't sure what to say, I didn't know what he wanted to hear.

At the very end of the school day, he sent me one more: _Come see me?_

I let out a shaky breath and flipped my phone closed, tucked it away in my back pocket to be forgotten.

The beatings that day were less physical, more mental blows. Percy sneering at me and Jason spitting toxic things as he passed me in the hall and Octavian laughing and veering sharply to clip his shoulder against mine.

I felt worn out, completely exhausted. My chest was nothing but a huge, wadded-up mass of anxiety and sadness.

I was sick of it, this endless cycle.

When I got home, I kept my eyes locked on the ground--didn't allow myself to even glance at Will's house--and marched through my front door.

Marie was sitting on the couch in the living room, her feet kicked up on the coffee table as she read a book, and she called a greeting to me as she saw me walking past the archway. I tensed up immediately. I remembered the look on her face yesterday, like she _knew._ I was almost sure that she knew.

Will knew about my bruises.

Marie knew about Will.

My response to her was halfhearted at best. I kept walking with the barest glimpse over my shoulder at her.

Once in my room, I spread my homework out over my desk and attempted to concentrate on math instead of everything else. It was a futile attempt; I ended up reverting to procrastination instead, per the usual.

Drawing was a welcome distraction anyway, it let me release all of my pent-up emotion without damaging anything, without yelling or crying or throwing any sort of fit at all. Which was ironic because the piece I was creating was a fit in itself.

The colors in it were jarring. They clashed against one another and created a kind of chaos. The image they weaved was one of turmoil. A haze of conflicting colors and images blended into the background.

I had been sitting there for about an hour and a half, occasionally breaking away from my art to complete an equation or write one more sentence on my essay. I was so engrossed in what I was doing that the doorbell ringing had a sort of jolting effect on me, but I just shook my head and got back to work. That is, until Marie called that it was for me.

I immediately assumed that it would be Will standing in the entryway when I got downstairs and sighed deeply, preparing myself for what was surely going to come. But it was not, in fact, Will. Instead, I arrived to see the blond girl from my party last night, standing there, staring around our house like she was examining it for how she could best use anything in the room against me.

I approached her hesitantly and gave her a confused look, thinking my mom must have made a mistake when she called me down. "Uhm. . . Did you come for my sister?"

The girl shook her head, giving me a small smile. "No, I came here to talk to you. I don't think I ever introduced myself. I'm Annabeth."

I blinked, my eyebrows drawing together. "I'm Nico. . . Why do you need to talk to me?"

Annabeth looked like she was at loss for words for a moment, biting her lip anxiously. "I. . . I came because I know what goes on with you and Percy--" She cut herself off, seeing me tense up immediately, and purposefully softened her expression. When she next spoke, her voice was mild and careful, as she was trying not to frighten a small bird, "He used to be my boyfriend. I just thought that I could explain some things to you."

I let out a shaky breath, looking around to ensure that Marie was no longer in the vicinity. "Alright. You can come sit down." I gestured through the doorway to the living room before I headed in and perched myself on the couch. Annabeth followed, taking a seat in the nearest armchair.

I looked at her, gripping my knees anxiously. I felt a little light-headed, I couldn't believe that I was about to be handed all of the indiscernible secrets in Percy Jackson's head. It seemed too easy, too sudden.

There was a long silence. I assumed she was trying to collect her thoughts together, and I let her.

She clasped her hands together between her knees, her knuckles paling, but held my gaze steadily. "Percy wasn't always like this," she began quietly, "I know it doesn't seem like it. . . but he used to be the kindest, most selfless person I knew. He wouldn't have hurt a fly. . ." Her eyes were far away, her smile just a bit wistful, a bit sad. "Even back then, his life wasn't the greatest. He had to deal with Gabe--his stepfather--and he struggled so much in school no matter how hard he tried. But he never complained, no matter how hard it got. Because he had his mom and he had me and he had his best friend, Grover. . ." She shook her head, "But then the doctors found a stage two tumor in Sally's brain and things just. . . they just kept getting worse and worse for him. Gabe was outraged at the medical bills that he didn't want to pay for. . ." Annabeth wiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. "The only reason Sally stayed with him was because he was providing money from his stupid shop to get them through the week. . . but unless it benefitted him, he wouldn't give up a single dime. Percy was absolutely livid. He and Gabe got into the worst fight that they'd ever had and Gabe hurt Percy really bad. . . and all it did was make Percy decide that he was going to take things into his own hands. He worked every spare moment of every day to try and pay. . . I mean, there aren't a lot of jobs you can get at fourteen anyway, but he did it all. Mowing lawns, cleaning houses, any measly job anyone in the neighborhood had for him. . . but it just wasn't enough.

"Somehow, he got Gabe to pitch in the rest but he was just exhausted and _angry_ every single day no matter how hard he tried not to show it and his mom was just getting worse and worse. But Percy was still managing it, you know? And Grover and I were doing our best to be there for him. . . but, then, he just snapped." She blew out a shaky breath, "I mean, there were reasons. Things leading up to it, but it still seemed so sudden. Things with Gabe were worse than they ever had been and his mom was getting worse. . . Plus, Grover was moving away. Percy just felt like he was losing everything. He started trying to surround himself with new people, distractions. I thought it would be good for him. Jason and Frank seemed like really good guys and. . ." She shook her head, looking pained. "Sometimes I think that if I'd stayed with him things wouldn't have turned out like this but he was just so _toxic._ I loved him so much, but he was just volatile and he snapped at everyone and. . . It scared me. Plus, Jason was absolutely infatuated with him. He followed Percy around like a lost puppy. So, I broke things off. . . Two days before Sally entered stage three. I think. . . as long as he had things he felt like he could fight for, that were holding him up, he might have been okay. But Jason and Frank don't do that. They go with whatever Percy says and Jason just feeds it all. And Octavian. . . He didn't come into the equation until later but he thrives off of it. He's just. . ." She looked at me with a deep, deep sadness in her eyes, "It's just such a mess, Nico."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. There was hardly any air left in my lungs. "Oh, _Dio,"_ I muttered. "That's just awful."

Annabeth nodded, dropping her gaze downward to where her fingers were still tightly locked together.

"Is Sally. . .?" My voice tapered off. I didn't want to finish the thought.

"She's still alive," Annabeth said, picking at the bed of her thumbnail. "She's not doing good, though. She's been in the hospital for a while. . . I go and see her sometimes. She's a wonderful lady."

I nodded, still trying to process everything that she had told me. I'd thought I'd had it bad, and I had in a lot of ways, but it seemed like things just kept getting piled higher and higher over Percy's head. I'd had time to heal, but he had to deal with the prospect of his mother's death every single day of his life and, on top of that, fend off an abusive stepfather.

"Hey," Annabeth's soft but insistent voice drew me out of my reverie and I snapped my focus back to her, my brows raised in question.

"I just want you to know," she continued once she had my attention, "that what Percy is going through is _terrible,_ but it doesn't make anything that he's been putting you through okay. I only learned about it all a couple of months ago. Frank came to me. . . he said he didn't know what to do and he's just. . . He's scared and, honestly, I am too. I didn't know what to do until Hazel mentioned that her brother's name is Nico and. . ." She shook her head, dismissing it as unimportant, "We have to stop him, Nico. He can't just. . . He can't get away with this." Annabeth's voice was strained, forced. Part of me wondered if she still loved him.

I pursed my lips, my hands were shaking. "I want to try talking to him," I choked.

Annabeth gulped, "What do you mean?"

"Outside of school. When no one else is watching. . . I just want to talk to him, I think it might help." I held her gaze steadily.

"Nico, if you're going to try talking to him at all... You can't do that by yourself. You have to take someone with you. I would go, but. . ." She looked away, shaking her head, "I can't see him again. I'm sorry."

I nodded in understanding. "I don't expect you to, don't worry. I'll find someone. . ."

I clenched my jaw just to feel my teeth press into one another, just to ground myself. Normally, Will would be the first person I would turn to, but it couldn’t be him. I wouldn’t get him caught up in this mess.

She sighed shakily. "I don't know if this is a good idea, Nico. You have to _promise_ me that you won’t go there alone. Promise.”

"I will. I promise."

Annabeth held my gaze for a few seconds before nodding. "Alright. Don't do anything stupid."

-

I'd been thinking a lot about what Annabeth had said. Instead of hearing equations and definitions and explanations at school, I heard _brain tumor_ and _volatile_ and _toxic._ I saw the wistful expression on Annabeth's face and tried to imagine Percy as she'd described him: hopeful and selfless and caring. It was nearly impossible.

I laid in bed and stared at the piece of paper with his address on it, printed in Annabeth's precise handwriting. Part of me knew that it was a bad idea, but I knew that if I didn't try it would eat away at me. I kept thinking that _maybe,_ just maybe, he would listen and he'd realize that he needed help, that the way he was dealing with things right now wasn’t healthy.

Maybe I could get him to leave me alone. I couldn't _not_ take that chance. I'd never be able to forgive myself if I was too much of a coward to do something and this continued for the rest of my high school years. And even if it didn't work, even if I just got beaten down again and Percy hated me even more for delving into his business, at least I would have tried.

Two days after Annabeth's visit, I sat down heavily in my desk chair pulled out my cell phone, staring at the screen for a few drawn-out seconds. Finally, I dialed Leo's number and closed my eyes as the phone rang.

After the third ring, he picked up. I could hear Festus barking in the background and my mouth tilted into a smile.

“Nico?” he asked incredulously. I didn’t call him much.

“Yeah. Hi.” I took a deep breath. Held it.

“Nico...?” And then, muffled, as if he was covering the speaker, _“Festus, I am on the phone.”_

I laughed despite myself and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Leo. We already established that. By the way, dogs don’t speak English.”

 _“C_ _á_ _llat_ _e_ _!_ What do you need?”

The smile that had settled onto my lips slipped away and I paused, hesitating. I hadn’t decided what I was going to say to him. I should have planned ahead. “On Friday… You know that blonde girl that was at my party?”

“The scary one?”

“Yeah, her. Her name is Annabeth… She came over to my house on Friday.” I picked at the rip in my jeans, pulling a thread loose.

“Oh?”

I gulped. “She used to be Percy’s girlfriend.”

The line went completely silent for a few seconds. “What?”

“Yeah, she came to my house and she told me… everything, really. Why Percy is the way he is. What happened to him.

Leo was quiet for a few seconds. “What… What exactly did she tell you?”

I was quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide how to start, and then I told him everything as concisely as I possibly could. Leo didn’t speak until I was finished.

“Shit.”

I nodded, running my fingers through my hair. “I know. I want to talk to him.”

“You… want to talk to Percy Jackson? Like… at school? What makes you think he’d let you get even one word in?”

I scoffed. “Like I’d try to talk to him at school. I’m going to his house. I’m thinking that he’ll be more willing to open up if I go over there and talk to him while the others aren’t aren’t around.”

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

“I know it’s not a completely foolproof plan, which is why I want you to  come with me.”

“Not a _completely_ foolproof plan? Nico, this has about a thousand more ways it could go wrong than right. If Percy starts beating on you, there’s not much I can do to help. He’s a lot bigger than me.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “You could at least call for help or something. Please, Leo. I need to do this.”

“Then at least bring Will too. He knows about your bruises, right? Now you can tell him about Percy too. He’d have a much better chance of standing up against him than I would.”

“No,” I said immediately, my heart clenching. “I’m not dragging Will into this. I’m going whether you come with me or not, Leo.”

He groaned and muttered to himself in Spanish. “Fine. I’ll come. But just for the record, I think this is a bad idea and I advised against it.”

I heard him hang up and I sighed and flipped my phone closed, anticipation eating away at my gut like a living thing.

-

Percy's house wasn't what I had expected. I guess what Leo had said was true, you really can't tell everything about a person just by looking at them. If I'd had to guess before I really knew, I'd have said that Leo lived here, in this tiny one-story house that looked like it was going to cave in one itself any second, and Percy lived in the enormous stucco mansion on Parr, when really, it was the other way around.

Leo stood next to me on the porch nervously, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Are you sure that you want to do this?”

I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Shouts were coming from inside, two voices firing back and forth at each other venomously. There was the sound of something glass shattering and Leo flinched.

“Nico… Maybe we should just go.”

I gulped and shook my head. “No. This is what I came here for. We’ll just wait.”

Leo raked his fingers through his hair, bouncing nervously on his heels. “This is such a bad idea. He’s going to kill us. I mean, literally kill us.”

“He will not. Now be quiet. We need to listen.”

Inside, the argument was escalating, the voices growing louder and more strained. I could hear them clearly now, Percy screaming that his stepfather was a lazy, selfish slob and Gabe’s slurred voice, telling him that he was useless, that he shouldn’t have even bothered coming home at all.

Leo gripped my arm, “Nico--”

The inside door flew inward, I barely avoided getting smacked by the flimsy screen door over it, and then Percy nearly trampled us in his rage. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes focusing on me with something stuck in between shock and horror. His cheeks were stained with tears and his hair was flying in every direction, blood dribbling from a gash on his arm. He looked like he hadn't slept in a month.

His expression turned into a snarl as he slammed the door closed, "What are you _doing_ here?" he growled, his eyes flicking back and forth between Leo and I.

I held my hands up in surrender, looking at him pleadingly. “I just came to talk. That’s all. Your ex-girlfriend was over at my house the other day.”

His shoulders dropped, his face pinching into something wounded. “Annabeth?” His voice was so small.

I nodded, “Yeah. She… She told me everything.”

Percy tensed up again, his jaw clenching and his eyes turning fiery. “What did she tell you?”

I pulled in a shaky breath. “About your stepfather. Your mom--”

“That is _none of your business._ She had… no… no right to tell you _any_ of that.” Fresh tears were pooling in his eyes.

“But she did,” Leo said. “That’s not Nico’s fault.”

I nodded, looking over at him gratefully. “I just want to help.”

Percy’s face bent into a snarl. “You can’t help me. Get off my porch.”

I opened my mouth to speak and he shoved me harshly, making me stumble back a step. _“Off.”_

“Hey!” Leo yelped and Percy turned his eyes on him, “Shut your mouth or you’re next, runt.”

“Percy, please just--”

“I said to get off my _fucking_ porch.”

I felt his hand fist into the collar of my shirt and he yanked me toward him before using all of his force to throw me downwards, letting go so I toppled down the short set of steps. He stalked down them after me, "You need to learn to keep your nose out of other people's business, di Angelo."

I rolled onto my stomach and started crawling away frantically, trying to get to my feet before he caught up to me, but I was too dazed. His foot slammed down onto my back. This seemed to be his routine, shove me to the ground or corner me, pin me there, beat me enough that I couldn't do anything to fight back, and then beat me some more.

My face hit the dirt, all of my breath was sucked out of my lungs, replaced with dirt that I couldn't even cough up now because I'd momentarily lost the ability to breathe. As his foot plowed into my side the first time, I could've sworn I heard a voice, _his voice,_ but that was impossible. I was just panicking, hoping against hope that I could get out of this, that someone else could get me out if this.

I could hear Leo yelling frantically, panicking, and then there was a surprised grunt, one that wasn't my own, and the blow I was expecting never came. I laid there, huddled on the ground, shaking in horror and disbelief and trying not to let myself get my hopes up, and then I came to my senses. I needed to get away.

I pulled myself to my feet with the intention of bolting as far and as fast as I could, but then I stopped in my tracks, because what I was seeing was so much worse than any number of beatings.

Will.

But he wasn't Will. He wasn't the Will I knew, default happy-face Will, the Will that was gentle and kind, who could cheer me up without even trying, the one who wanted to be a doctor, who wanted to help people. Selfless, harmless Will. Suddenly, he was terrifying and cruel and the exact opposite of everything I'd fallen in love with.

His face was contorted in rage and he was screaming and yelling and pinning Percy to the ground and just _wouldn't stop hitting him_ no matter how much I screamed and cried for him to stop. He didn't stop until Leo and I dragged him away, I wasn't even sure how we did it, he was so much stronger than both of us and he was fighting with everything he had, gnashing his teeth and snarling insults and accusations like a wild animal. We had to hold him there for what felt like a full ten minutes before he calmed down and stopped struggling, his breathing labored like he'd just run a marathon.

Finally, we let him go and I stumbled backward, aghast. Will turned around, his eyes wild. "Nico, are you okay?" he rushed frantically, taking a step forward. I shook my head furiously, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

"Stay away from me," I gasped, and his face froze in shock. "Don't come any closer."

Will was supposed to be my safety. He _was_ my safety, he was _home,_ he was the only place I felt like I belonged and now in the blink of an eye he'd turned into something destructive and hate-filled. I was suddenly terrified that he was going to tear me apart instead of put me back together.

"Neeks?"

"Don't. Don't call me that," I whispered. "Don't move."

I started forward hesitantly, but I wasn't trying to get to him, I was trying get around him. To see what kind of damage he'd done. My eyes were firmly planted on his face as I circled around him, and his gaze never faltered from mine, confused, and hurt, and afraid, until I'd completed a half-circle. Now my back was to Percy, I didn't want to lose sight of Will, I was afraid of what he'd do if I let my eyes slip away from his, and as a result, Will saw him before I did.

His mouth dropped open, his expression was as disgusted and petrified as I felt, and this time when he started forward I didn't try and stop him. I just leapt out of the way as fast as I could and, for a gut-wrenching second, I thought he was going to start beating him again. But then he dropped to his knees beside Percy, and I made my way over cautiously to find that Will was shaking, his eyes wide and his fingers hovering over my attacker's broken face. His knuckles were split and stained with blood.

"Oh, _God,"_ he whispered, "I did this. Nico, I--" he sobbed, covering his mouth with his hand, and I stood there, uncertain what to do because here was my boyfriend, who'd just transformed the kid who bullied me every day into this mangled and bloody mess, and he was sobbing and part of me wanted to comfort him, but I _couldn't_ because I was still shaken to the core.

"We need to call someone, Will-- We need to. . ."

Leo was still standing a few feet away, looking absolutely sick. “I’ll call the police,” he rasped.

I nodded and then glanced up at the house nervously. “Gabe. If he comes out… We can’t let him see us. I don’t know what would happen. I don’t want him seeing the cops at his house.”

Will was nodding frantically, getting to his feet shakily. “We’ll carry him part-way down the street and then call.”

“You’re not supposed to move someone if they’re injured.”

Leo shook his head. “That’s just for neck and spine stuff, I think. He should be fine.”

I nodded and walked toward Percy. “Leo, help me with the feet.”

I grabbed one leg while Leo grabbed the other and Will hooked his elbows underneath Percy’s armpits and we slowly lugged himdown the street, laying him down in front of an empty lot of weeds and dirt.

I scrambled for my phone and pulled it out, trying to take deep, slow breaths.

A female voice came over the line, “Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”

“He’s hurt,” I choked.

“Who’s hurt?”

I gasped for breath. “My… This guy. He attacked me a-and my… my boyfriend pulled him off and beat him up. I…”

“Okay. Stay calm. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. He’s the one that’s hurt. Please just send help.”

“Where are you?”

I looked up at Leo frantically. “Leo. Leo, the address. Do you still have it?”

He nodded, patting himself down frantically until he’d found the piece of paper that Annabeth had written on and he shoved it into my hands. I read it off and told the woman that we were at the empty lot down the street.

“What’s your name?”

“Nico di Angelo.”

She kept asking questions, telling me to stay calm, that help was on the way, and five minutes later, sirens were blaring in the distance.

-

I felt numb. Like I was watching everything that was happening through a glass barrier. The ambulances and police cars pulling up, the paramedics bending down next to Percy, checking his vitals and calling out his injuries, lifting him up into the ambulance, the officer that was standing in front of us with a notepad, asking us questions.

We each lent a hand in telling him what was going on. That Percy had been bullying me for years, that I came here to try and talk to him after finding out what was going on, that I’d brought Leo in case things went bad. That Leo had called Will without my knowledge, despite me telling him not to, and had texted him the address before putting it in his GPS.

After everything, I watched Marie pull up to the scene and stare around in shock at the police cars. She walked up to one of the officers, who talked to her for a while before she made her way over to me, looking completely drained of any sort of joy.

I let her pull me into a tight hug, sinking into her. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been wanting to cry this entire time, but now it was all I could do. Just clutch at her and sob into her shoulder.

“I wish you would have told us what was going on,” she was whispering. “Nico, we would never have let him keep hurting you.”

I sobbed again and pulled away from her, my head ducked in shame. I hated feeling so exposed, hated the fact that everyone could see this part of myself now.

We made our way to the car and Marie clutched the wheel as she pulled out into the street, her face creased in a deep frown. I looked away from her to see Will staring  after us, cradling his bandaged hand gingerly.

I clutched my eyes shut, my chest aching horribly. I kept seeing him pinning Percy down, his expression warped and hateful. And I saw him looking at me so many times before, eyes soft and fingers feather-light against my cheek.

Marie drew in an uncertain breath. “The police officer just now… he referred to Will as your boyfriend.”

My eyes shot open and I looked over at her, my mouth going dry. “What?”

She glanced over, clearly nervous. “I had my suspicions before, but… Well, I knew I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I just… I want you to know that it’s alright. And I think your father would say the same.”

Disbelief was rolling through me. “What? But… I thought…?”

Marie turned the wheel to the left, pulling us onto the next street. “I’ve never really… agreed with that type of thing, but there’s no reason that I should stop you. It’s your decision, Nico, and I support you. Just because it’s not something that I feel is right for me, that doesn’t mean it can’t be for you.”

My mouth stuttered silently for a few drawn-out seconds. “Thank you,” I choked. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Are you going to tell your father?”

“No. Eventually, but not yet. I’m… I’m not quite ready to tell him yet.”

Marie just nodded, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the steering wheel. “Alright. Just know that I’ll be there for you when you decide to.”

-

  
Three hours later, I was sitting on my bed with my back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling as tears dried against my cheeks. I’d been crying off and on this entire time, pinned in place by the thoughts swarming around in my brain.

Next to me, my phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and I looked down at it to see the tiny display lit up with a message from Will.

I hesitated for so long that the screen went dark long before I even reached down to pick it up.

_How long do you want me to stay away?_

My eyes fell shut. I wondered how long he debated sending that, I could picture him sitting at his desk now, trying desperately to distract himself while he waited for me to answer, how his hands would twitch against the wood and grip at the edge of it, thumb wearing away at the corner. If I looked out my window then, I might have been able to see him if the window was open, if he was really sitting there at all.

I stared at my phone for a long, long time. I was scared, absurdly, that Will wouldn’t be the same person he was before. Or maybe it was just that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to see him that way again.

I remembered Will holding me close, his voice shaky and clogged with emotion, telling me that it was okay to be afraid as long as I didn’t hide from my fears.

_Come over._

Two words and it took me nearly five minutes to get myself to send them.

He appeared in my doorway, clutching at the frame, his bandaged hand hanging limply at his side. Tiny dots of blood had begun to soak through the thin wrap in some places, the bruise on his face was dark and angry, his eyes frightened.

I moved and sat on the edge of the bed and, slowly, he came to sit next to me, keeping a foot between us like we were strangers sitting on a park bench.

My eyes were trained on his hand, the pinpricks of blood. I imagined lifting his hand and kissing it gently. I remembered that same hand slamming into Percy’s face. Later, hovering above it, fingers shaking.

Slowly, I looked up and met his eyes. He let out a soft breath, looking pained. “I’ve never… never hit someone like that, Nico.” Tears had welled in his eyes and I watched them fall when he blinked, staining his eyelashes.

“How am I supposed to know you wouldn’t do that again?” My voice came out sounding choked, scared, fragile.

He clenched his eyes closed. “I don’t know… don’t know what came over me. I just saw him… kicking you, _hurting_ you… I remembered all of those bruises. Nico--” Will sobbed, his whole body jerking with it. “It just made me so mad, that he… it was him. This whole time, it was him.”

I gulped. “I know, Will.”

He met my gaze, mouth trembling, and then his eyes dropped down. I followed them to where he had laid his hand against the sheets, halfway between us, palm up. A question. A test, maybe.

I reached out, breath shaking, and touched my fingers to the rough bandage fit around it, watched his fingers jerk. At the edge of my vision, I could see his shoulder’s deflating as I brushed my fingertips down to the exposed skin of his palm.

My hand pressed down against his and my whole chest shook with it, the warmth of his skin on mine, so familiar.

“It’ll take a while. For me to… to trust you again. Completely.”

He laughed, rough and raw, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I know.”

So, I moved closer, enough to fit my hand behind his neck and slowly draw him down, touch my nose to his, and breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting! It means the world that you stuck with this fanfiction through the horrendously long waits and were so wonderful about everything. I hope this final chapter isn't too bad, I had a rough time with it.


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